"MAKE-TIP"  BOOK— HOW  TO  "MAKE-UP."     A  practical  guide  foi1 
Amateurs,  with  Twenty-three  colored  Illustrations,     ''rice  5>)  cents. 


NO    CCLXXVIU. 

FRENCH'S    MINOR     DRAMA 

(fcbitiou. 


GREEK  MOUNTAIN  BOY: 


A  OOMEDY.  IN  TWO  ACTS, 


BY    J.    S.    JONES,    ESQ. 


TO  WKICB   AKB    ADDK» 


A  description  of  the  Costume — Cast  of  the  Characters — Entrances  and  KXII* 

Relative  Positions  of  the  Performers  on  the  Stage,  and 

the  whole  of  the  Stage  Businea*. 


,AB  NOW  PERFORMED   AT    THE   PRINCIPAL  5NOLISH 
AND  AMERICAN  THEATRES. 


SEW  YOKE i 

SAMUEL  FRENCH  &  SON, 

PUBUBHBKS, 

88  tfaet  14th  8t,  Unkm  Sqoare. 


LONDON: 

Samuel  French 

PUHLI6HER, 


Containing  Eouge,  Pearl  Powder,  Whitiiifj.  Mongolian,  Ruddy  Ronge,  Violet  Powder, 
Box  and  Puff;  Chrome,  Blue,  Burnt  Cork.  Pencils  for  the  eyelids,  Spirit  Gum,  India  Ii.k, 
Camel  Hair  Brashes,  Hare's  Foot,  Wool,  Craped  Hair,  Cold  Cream,  Joining  Paste,  Min- 
iature Puffs,  Scissors  and  Looking  Glass,  packed  neatly  in  Strong  Fancy  Card-board 
Boxes,  $1.00  ;  Elegant  Tin  Cases,  $5.00. 

THE  ABOVE  ARTICLES  TO  BE  HAD  SEPARATELY.    FOR  PRICES,  SEE  CATALOGUE. 


No  Plays  Exchanged  or  Sent  on  Approval. 


DESCEIPTIVE  CATALOGUE 

or 

PLAYS, 

AND 

DBAMATIC  WORKS, 

With    a    Descriptive    List    of   Amateur    Plays    and    Articles. 


CON  T  E  NTS. 


Patre. 

Amateur  Dramas,  Comedies,  etc K2 

Amateur  Operas 42 

Articles  Needed  by  Amateurs 45 

Beards,  Whiskers,-  Mustaches,  etc...  47 

Bits  of  Burlesque 3S 

Bound  e  14 

Bulw.-r  :'i 

;'ie  Dramas 42 

>    >rk 

le  I': ays 

1  Fire  and  T;  :                           ..  45 



39 

42 

25 

44 



1 1'l'tummciit 40 

Ion 2 

42 

French's  Standard  .v                        ..  14 

French                                         . . , 41 

. .  4.'> 

Army  Dramas - 




Page 

How  to  "Make-up" 4S 

How  We  Managed  our  Private  Thea- 
tricals   36 

Irish  Plays 36 

Juvenile  Plays 40 

Lacy's  Costumes 26 

-him  Tableaux  Lights 45 

Miik«-upB'iX 48 

25 

1'iays. 21 

13 

Mrs.  .]  lit 

New  I'  - 14 

and  Stump  Speeches...  40 

41 

44 



'•uly 'A! 

41 

aral  »ud  Historical  Dram;.- 







Sheet  Music. J-: 





Theati 

47 


ALL  M.ULABLE   AKTI;  POST  FKEE. 


send  Post   Office 
Or,' 

:  r:.VT. 


NK\V   Yt. 

SA.MT'I'IL    FIlKNi 
PCJBLISIi ; 

38  E.  14th  St.,  Union  Square. 


LON  :  - 

L     FUKXCII 
PU: 


Payment  Mu  <idi   Or 

A  Catalogue  with  above  Contents  Sent  Free. 


UCSB   LIBRARY 
/- 


1  1  K 


GBEEN   MOUNTAIN   BOY. 


Comcbg.  —  fit  £foo 


J.  S.   JONES,   ESQ., 

A«*or  of  "  Surgeon  of  Paris,"  "  Zafari,"  "  Carpenter  of  Rouen,"  «  Moll  Pitch*,4 

"Stephen  Burroughs,"  "  People's  Lawyer,"  "Bride  of  Jonah,"  "Siege 

of  Boston,"  "  Old  Job  and  Jacob  Gray,"  "  Liberty  Tree," 

"  Last  Days  of  Pompei,"  "  Silver  Spoon," 

etc.  etc. 


Original  (.'cuts,  Costumes,  and  all  the  Stage  Busineat,  at  m«r&*4 
>j/  Mr.  J.  B.  Wright,  Stage  Manager  of  the  Holiday  Street 
Theatre,  Baltimore. 


KEW  YORK 

Samuel  French  &.  Son,         Samuel    French, 


PUBLISHERS, 

No.  1'W  Naatuia  Street. 


PUBI.lSnEK. 


ao 


s  .  €11 

«t»  ssi  3 


.  oj  oi  s     t: 

;  =  .S  a  3      t 


CQ 


H 
O 

tf 
-«! 

W 
o 


«j  3  rt  g  ™  C 
d,  rt  B  M  M!  3 
cn^^^^-fi 


g,333 


j-  tfjp 


M^ 
»T« 

sS 
I 


si. 
*il 


CQ 


2.2  E 


t  ££> 

til 

^a* 

S'-ja 
ssa 


CQ      i     Carles"! 


^  t*l     cd   rt  ^ 

?..„. 


&       > 

Is? 


.  a    . 

z"  •  «    •  oT 
o  a"  S    ;  ? 

1,  ^ 

t5  M 

*   M   °     :« 

S  5 

g 

iflgjg 

•<  * 
IS 

2  ?f  S 


a  o 


x  S 
li 

&^ 
ra  a: 
m  w  x" 

«  J  o 


JOHN  S.  CLARKE 

WM  born  in  the  city  of  Baltimcre,  in  1833.  At  an  early  age  he 
evinced  a  predilection  for  the  stage,  and  was,  with  our  distinguished 
young  tragedian,  Edwin  Booth,  the  "  head  and  front "  of  a  little  band 
of  juvenile  Thespians,  —  the  two  lads  enacting  opposite  parts  in  trag- 
edy, which  Clarke  conceived  at  the  time  to  be  his  particular/orte. 

By  the  earnest  desire  of  his  mother  (his  only  surviving  parent), 
young  Clarke  entered  a  lawyer's  office,  for  the  purpose  of  preparing 
himself  for  the  legal  profession ;  but  preferring  Shakspeare  and  the 
Drama  to  musty  parchments  and  the  acts  of  the  Revised  Statutes,  he 
determined  to  adopt  the  stage  as  a  profession.  Having  obtained  an 
engagement  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum,  Boston,  he  made  his  first  ap- 
pearance on  the  7th  of  March,  1851,  as  Frank  Hardy,  in  the  comedy 
of  "Paul  Pry."  He  subsequently,  in  1852,  joined  the  company  at 
the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia,  then  in  its  palmy  days, 
where  he  remained  until  1851,  when  he  again  returned  to  Baltimore, 
as  first  low  comedian  of  the  Front  Street  Theatre.  The  complimentary 
benefit  which  was  given  to  him  in  the  fall  of  1854  will  be  remembered 
by  those  who  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  present  as  one  of  the  greatest 
ovations  ever  awarded  to  native  talent  in  the  country.  In  August,  '55, 
he  became  a  member  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia,  where 
he  has  been  ever  since,  as  the  leading  comedian,  and  for  the  last  three 
years  as  joint  manager  with  Mr.  Wheatley.  His  occasional  "starring  " 
visits  to  the  Southern  cities  are  always  greatly  successful.  In  the  pro- 
fession, and  by  all  out  of  it  who  enjoy  his  acquaintance,  he  is  esteemed 
highly  for  qualities  that  render  manhood  doubly  attractive  when  com- 
bined with  those  of  the  artist.  As  an  indication  of  his  present  extreme 
popularity  in  Philadelphia,  it  may  be  stated  that  at  his  last  benefit  the 
throng  was  so  great  that  the  stage  was  partly  given  up  to  spectators. 

We  have  in  his  comedy  the  first  grand  essential.  This  is  affluent, 
spontaneous,  natural  humor.  For  this  quality  it  is  impossible  to  sub- 
ititute  the  graces  and  clever  forms  and  modes  that  education  brings. 


iy  JOHN   8.  CLARKE. 

It  is  this  bounteous  gift  that  runs  the  artist  into  dangers.  Criticism 
mistakes  simple  excess  of  humor  for  extravagance,  as  Dickens  is 
always  reminded  by  those  most  sensible  of  his  vivid  nature,  that  he 
puts  life  under  a  magnifier,  and  travesties  its  incidents  and  emotions. 
We  know  no  comedian  who  is  so  thoroughly  appreciative  of  the  ludi- 
crous as  the  subject  of  this  notice.  His  fun  is  like  a  perennial  fountain, 
clear,  and  sparkling,  and  gushing.  It  refreshes  all  alike.  We  have 
•oen  old  and  care-tried  men,  youths  without  a  cai-e,  the  educated  and 
refined,  and  the  rough  and  unlettered,  given  up  literally  to  its  strength 
and  stir.  We  have  repeatedly  seen  "old  stagers"  overcome  by  the 
fun  of  a  single  look,  or  tone,  or  attitude,  and  interrupted  in  their 
labors  for  an  unregretted  space.  Sympathy  is  the  signet  of  genius,  •>— 
sympathy,  or  that  subtile,  close  communion  with  universal  naturo 
which,  for  the  sake  of  distinguishing  it  from  acquired  knowledge  of 
the  human  character,  we  call  intuition.  Without  this  delicate  sense 
no  deep  impression  can  be  made  by  the  public  performer,  whether  re- 
ligious or  secular.  Mr.  Clarke's  power  with  an  audience  is  wonder- 
ful,—  magnetic,  —  because  he  has  its  pulse  in  his  hand,  and  its  heart 
beating  close  to  his  own. 

We  are  all  the  time  seeing  how  Art  is  measuring  and  controlling  the 
gift  of  humor  with  which  Mr.  Clarke  has  been  endowed.  All  of  his 
delineations  are  suggestive  of  intelligent  effort  to  realize  the  best  func- 
tions of  the  stage.  In  the  fresh  parts  he  has  played  within  the  past 
twelve-month  there  has  been  as  little  exaggeration  as  the  stage  will 
allow.  (It  clearly  will  not  allow  any  precise  and  unvarying  method  ; 
since  nature  is  mysteriously  various.) 

Versatility  distinguishes  this  comedian  eminently.  In  his  brief  prac- 
tice of  his  profession  he  has  covered  a  wide  range.  We  have  seen  him 
as  "  Toodles,"  the  embodiment  of  the  grotesque  and  low  comical ;  as 
"  Bob  Acres,"  the  half-genteel  braggart ;  as  "  Farmer  Ashfield,"  the 
type  of  the  pathetic  domestic  man  ;  as  "  Bob  Tyke,"  the  man  of  fierce 
passions  and  original  good  sympathies  ;  as  "  Tilly  Slowboy,"  the  awk- 
ward, honest  creature  ;  as  "  Major  De  Boots,"  the  familiar  type  of 
eccentric  ardor  unsustained  by  vital  force.  In  all  these  characters,  and 
many  more  as  widely  contrasted,  we  think  Mr.  Clarke  has  shown  the 
conception  of  a  general  artist,  and  a  power  of  expression  which  no 
living  comedian  possesses  in  the  same  degree. 

Ociobe-,  1860. 


THE  GREEN  MOUNTAIN  BOY. 


ACT    I. 

BCliNE  I. 1  Room   in  TOMKIXS'  House,  2  o.  — -  Table  and  two 

chair$  on  L.  c.  — ELLEN  discovered,  reading. 

Ellen  (throicing  down  book}.  I  can  read  no  more.  I  have  felt  no 
interest  in  the  subject  for  the  last  half  hour.  Truly  mine  'a  an  envi- 
able situation.  While  other  girls  are  sedulous  to  secure  the  affections 
of  one  lover,  I  have  a  fresh  one  offered  me  every  -week,  by  my  provi- 
dent father  ;  all  of  which  have  been  duly  refused.  An  odd  catalogue 
of  aspirants  is  mine,  to  be  sure  :  Merchants,  who  have  so  annoyed  me 
with  long  stories  of  drafts  —  upon  my  patience.  Drafts  indeed  ;  — 
advances  —  failures  —  shipments  —  clearances. — No  clearance  of  them 
all  afforded  me  so  much  pleasure  as  their  own.  Lawyers,  with  their 
latin  and  logic  —  arguments — pleas  —  which  displeased  me,  —  and 
suits  in  which  they  were  nonsuited.  Physicians,  who  have  amused 
me  with  the  same  means  that  made  their  patients  miserable,  —  a  med- 
ley compound  of  love  and  fevers,  drugs  and  blisters  —  to  draw  my  at- 
tention ;  and  to  end  the  list,  I  have  a  lord,  —  a  sprig  of  nobility,  —  an 
exotic  lover.  (Knock  L.  H.)  0  !  who  'a  there? 

Enter  JOE  SHAKSPEAHE,  L.  H.  1  E. 

What 's  amiss,  Mr.  Joseph  T 

Joe.  You  are,  and  do  not  know  it,  ns  my  namesake  used  to  say. 
I  "m  very  ill  at  these  numbers.  Your  father  — 

El.   Is  he  ill  ?    I  'm  sure  I  heard  his  voice  but  now. 

Joe.   Much  worse  ;  —  he  is  in  his  tantrums,  miss. 

El.   Pray  explain.     I  do  not  understand  you. 

Joe.   Then  to  speak  more  poetically,  he  is  in  a  devil  of  a  passion. 

El.  And  is  that  all  ?  You  must  be  used  to  his  quick  temper,  by 
this  time.  'T  is  very  soon  over  again,  you  know. 

Joe.  Yes,  after  a  storm  there 's  a  calm  ;  but  to  speak  by  delusion, 
when  the  storm  has  wrecked  a  ship,  of  what  use  is  the  calm  to  those 
who  have  gone  to  the  bottom  ;  hey,  mi.«s? 

El.   True,  Mr.  Joseph.     To  what  circumstance  am  I  indebted  for 
this  e&rlv  vis-it  of  yours7 
'l* 


6  THE    GREEN    MOUNTAIN    BOY.  [ACT   I. 

Joe.  For  half  a  dozen  reasons  I  appear  before  you.  Let  one  suf- 
fice. —  Your  father  is  incensed  against  us  ;  —  I  for  bringing  a  book, 
and  you  for  reading  it.  He  is  coming  here  to  scold  you.  I  thought  it 
my  duty  to  inform  you.  Have  you  any  commands  for  me,  Miss 
Ellen? 

EL  Yes  ;  see  if  there  are  any  letters  for  me,  Mr.  Joseph  ;  and  go 
to  the  library,  aud  bring  me  the  last  new  novel.  Be  careful ';  let  no 
one  see  it. 

Joe.  I  'm  faithful.  I  am  love 's  ambassador.  I  wish  I  was  Cupid, 
with  a  bow  and  arrow.  I  know  whose  heart  I  'd  shoot  my  shaft  into, 
and  make  it  stick  there  too.  I  '11  do  thy  bidding  ;  "yet  'tis  hard,  I 
find  ;  I  must  be  cruel  only  to  be  kind."  [Exit,  t.  H.  1  B. 

El.  A  little  Cupid,  with  a  bow  and  arrow  !  Rather  an  antique. 
So,  father  is  coming.  A  lecture  on  lords  and  titles  comes  with  liim,  I 
dare  say. 

Enter  TOMKINS,  i.  H.  1  E. 

Good  morning,  father.     I  hope  you  are  not  ill. 

Tomkins,  L.  I  never  was  better  in  all  my  life.  I  am  not  in  my 
usual  mild,  good  humor.  That  scoundrel  Joe,  with  his  rhyme  and 
reason,  had  very  nearly  put  me  in  a  passion.  I  shall  be  hung  for 
him,  yet.  I  know  I  shall  murder  him  ! 

El.   You  might  discharge  him,  and  get  another  man  in  his  place. 

Tom.  No,  I  can't  do  that.  He 's  been  with  me  so  long  I  could  n't 
do  without  him.  But  he  always  will  have  his  way,  and  be  damned  to 
him.  Never  mind,  my  dear  ;  sit  down.  I  have  made  up  my  mind,  at 
last.  The  result  will  make  you  so  happy. 

El.   I  am  glad  of  that.     What  is  it?  —  I  am  impatient  to  learn. 

Tom.  I  told  your  aunt  you  would  be  ;  I  told  Joe  you  would  be  ;  I 
told  'em  all  so.  Next  Monday  you  will  be  eighteen. 

El.   Is  that  all,  sir?    I  am  aware  of  that. 

Tom.  Four  weeks  from  that  day  you  are  to  be  married.  What  do 
you  think  of  that? 

EL   Married ,  sir  ?  —  who  married  ? 

Tom.  Who  ?  why  you,  to  be  sure.  Your  husband  will  be  here  to- 
iay. 

EL  But  indeed,  sir,  I  can't  be  married  so  soon.  I  have  no  wish 
to  be  married  at  all,  sir. 

Tom.  Yes  you  have.  Pooh  !  I  know  better.  That 's  just  what 
your  mother  said  a  week  before  she  made  a  happy  man  of  me.  His 
lordship  will  be  here  to-day,  and  he  has  assented  to  my  wish,  and  you 
are  to  be  made  Lady  Montague.  What  a  pretty  sound  it  has  ! 

EL   Sounds  give  no  happiness. 

Tom.  Well,  you  will  have  his  lordship,  and  his  name  into  the  bar- 
gain. If  that  won't  make  you  happy  I  don't  know  what  will. 

EL   The  man  I  love. 

Tern .   The  man  I  love  !     Yes,  to  be  sure  ;  that 's  he. 

EL   No  ;  Cousin  Edward  Merston,  sir. 

Tom.  Flints  and  steel!  What!  without  my  consent?  Here's 
mutiny  !  I  Ml  send  you  to  a  nunnery,  if  there 's  one  in  the  country 
that  will  receive  you  ;  if  not,  I  Ml  build  one  at  the  bottom  of  my  gar- 
den. You  shan't  sec  man  or  boy,  —  sunshine  or  moonshine,  or  any 


•CKNK    I.]  THE    GREEN    MOUNTAIN    BOY.  7 

other  kind  of  shine.  This  comes  from  novels  nnd  plays.  I  '.I  lock 
you  up  till  you  are  married  ;  and  I  '11  have  every  book  in  the  house 
destroyed,  except  the  Cook's  Oracle  and  the  Almanac.  (ELLEN 
laughs.)  Don't  you  laugh  at  me.  0  dear  !  I  never  shall  be  a  great 
man,  nor  have  a  lord  for  a  son-in-law.  [Exit,  R.  H.  1  E. 

El.  I'm  so  vexed  ;  and  yet  I  don't  know  why  I  should  be.  They 
mny  force  me  to  church  ;  —  they  cannot  force  me  to  speak,  when  I'm 
there 

Enter  JOE,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Well,  Mr.  Joseph,  what  brings  you  back  so  soon? 

Joe.    Business,  Miss  Ellen.     I  hope  you  are  not  angry. 

El.  No,  not  with  you,  Mr.  Joseph ;  but  you  have  scarcely  been 
absent  long  enough  to  have  gone  to  the  library. 

Joe.   No,  miss  ;  I  only  went  half  way. 

EL   Then  why  did  you  return  ? 

Joe.  Why,  I  returned  because  I  came  back  ;  and  I  came  back  be- 
cause I  did  n't  go  no  further.  I  met  Bill  Brown,  the  hostler.  Bill  ifl 
a  patron  of  mine.  He  's  a  judge  of  poetry,  too.  I  wrote  verses  to  hia 
Bweetheart  for  him.  Her  earthly  name  is  Dinah,  but  I  personifies  her 
as  the  beautiful  Cleopatra. 

El.  (aside).  I  cannot  endure  his  nonsense  now.  You  said  that  you 
had  business  with  me. 

Joe.  Look  at  me,  Miss  Ellen  ;  conceive  me  to  be  the  messenger  of 
joy.  Conception  is  a  blessing,  as  my  namesake  says  ;  and  therefore 
your  blessing  conceive  me. 

El.   I  'm  in  haste,  Mr.  Joseph. 

Joe.  Miss  Ellen,  if  you  have  no  objection  I  should  prefer  to  be  called 
Joe.  There  'a  more  symphony  in  it.  It 's  more  poetical,  and  better 
responds  to  my  feelings  as  an  author.  Here,  this  is  for  you.  (Give* 
a  letter.) 

El.  For  me?  From  whom,  pray?  (Opens  and  reads)  "  To  the 
most  adorable  of  her  sex.  Miss  Tonkins,  I  pen  this  en  deshabille. 
I  shall  not  begin  my  toilette.  As  soon  as.  I  am  cleansed  from  the  hor 
rid  dust  accumulated  upon  my  person,  on  my  way  to  throw  myself  at 
your  feet,  I  shall  do  mys,elf  that  honor.  Adieu,  with  all  love's  et 
teteras.  Montague."  "I"  is  certain,  then,  he  will  be  here  to-day. 
What 's  to  be  done  ?  Ah  !  as  I  expected  ;  here  comes  my  aunt. 

Enter  Miss  SQUEAMISH,  H.  H.  1  E. 

Miss  Squeamish.  Good  morning,  child.  Why,  Mr.  Shakspeare,  I 
am  astonished.  Leave  the  room.  (Miss  SQUEAMISH  crosses  c.)  So 
much  do  I  loathe  your  sex  I  cannot  converse  with  ours  in  the  presence 
of  a  man  freely  as  I  wish. 

Joe.   Yes,  my  dear  Miss  Squeamish. 

Miss.  S.  Don't  dear  me,  you  wretch.  Go.  Ah,  my  fascinating 
Borneo .' 

Joe    Exchange  one  glance,  you  venerable  Venus. 

"  Ah,  that  those  eyes  were  in  heaven  ! 
They  M  through  the  hazy  region  shine  so  hright 
TUat  ':<vk«  would  crow,  auJ  think  it  were  the  morn." 

[  Exit,  L.  H.  1  B. 


8  THE    GRKKN    MOUNTAIN    BOY.  [AOf  I. 

J\fiss  S.  Now,  miss,  we  are  alone,  listen  to  my  good  advice.  Open 
your  ears.  I  am  told  you  read  naughty  books.  Now  I  have  too  much 
respect  for  your  morals  — 

EL  To  think  BO,  ha?  Who  told  you  I  read  naughty  books,  my 
good,  dear  aunt  ? 

Miss  S.   Your  father,  miss  impudence.     It  is  not  right. 

EL  And  why  do  you  read  them  ?  I  have  not  forgotten  the  title- 
page  of  the  book  I  found  under  your  pillow,  one  morning. 

Miss  S.  You  are  too  young  to  understand  them.  Now,  I  under- 
stand them  perfectly. 

El.   I  always  thought  so,  aunt. 

Miss  S.  Hold  your  tongue,  miss,  and  hear  me.  It  is  the  wish  of 
your  father  that  you  should  be  united  in  marriage  with  a  man  — 

El.   I  should  hope  so,  if  I  am  to  be  married  at  all. 

Miss  S.  Although  I  hate  the  sex  myself,  I  can  give  advice  to 
younger  maidens,  when  so  desired  by  their  friends.  Now,  my  ad- 
vice— 

El.  I  don't  desire  your  advice  ;  and  you  need  n't  think  because  you 
pretend  to  hate  the  men  — 

Miss  S.  Pretend,  miss  pert !  I  do  not  pretend.  When  a  man 
even  looks  at  me  it  offends  my  sight. 

EL   Take  off  your  spectacles,  and  you  will  not  see  them. 

Miss  S.   What  do  you  mean,  miss  ? 

El.  0,  I  have  watched  you  ;  —  as  soon  txs  a  man  appears,  old  or 
young,  if  your  glasses  happen  to  be  off,  on  they  go  directly. 

Miss  S.  That 's  because  I  do  not  wish  their  eyes  to  meet  mine. 
Do  you  dare  to  think,  miss,  I  can  see  better  with  them  than  without 
them?  No;  I  do  not  wear  them  to  improve  my  sight,  but  because 
they  give  one  an  air  of  age  and  respectability,  that 's  all. 

El.  I  'm  sure  there  is  no  need  of  that.  Your  old  age  shows  itself 
plain  enough. 

Miss  S.  How  dare  you  use  such  language  to  your  old  —  I  mean 
your  own  aunt  ? 

El.  If  it  does  not  please  my  own  old  aunt,  I  am  sure  she  is  under 
no  obligation  to  stay.  You  can  leave  me. 

Miss  S.  I  shall  not  leave  you  till  I  have  given  you  a  serious  lec- 
ture. Where  are  all  the  naughty  books?  Give  them  to  me. 

El.  For  you  to  read  at  midnight  0  no  ;  I  have  too  much  respect 
for  your  morals,  aunt. 

Miss  S.  I  tell  you,  miss  itnpudenca,  I  '11  not  put  up  with  this  Ian- 
guage.  Give  me  the  books,  I  tell  you. 

El.   I  tell  you  I  shall  do  no  such  thing. 

Miss  S.    Sit  down  and  hear  me,  miss.     This  marriage  — 

El.  I  had  much  rather  not.  I  wish  to  be  alone  ;  and  as  you  are  so 
fond  of  lectures,  I  '11  leave  you  to  lecture  by  yourself.  [Exit,  K.  H.  1  B. 

Miss  S.  I  declare  she  has  absolutely  left  the  room.  Here 's  pretty 
treatment !  The  girl  has  been  ruined  by  too  much  indulgence.  When 
I  was  a  very  young  giH,  I  would  not  have  acted  so  ;  ami  that 's  why 
I  am  a  single  woman  now.  Well,  I  hope  it  is  all  for  the  best.  There  '§ 
Mr.  Shakspe.-ire,  now  ;  if  in  some  of  his  poetic  moments  he  would  but 
ask  my  hand,  I  believe  I  should  say  Amen,  with  a  fluttering  heart, 
and  become  Mrs.  Shakspeare.  [Exit,  B.  H.  IE. —  Clear  stage. 


SCENE  11.]  THE    GREEK    MOC.VTAIJ?    BOY.  9 

SCENE  IT.  —  A  Garden,  6  a.  —  Landscape  flats,  5  o.  —  Iron  rail' 
iny  across  stage,  4  a.  —  Gate  c.  —  Set  house  R.  u.  8  K.  —  Garden- 
stool  on  L.  H. 

Enter  JEDEIHAII,  L.  u.  E.,  through  gate;  a  School  Grammar  in  hit 

hand. 

Jedediah.  Wai,  I  swow  this  grammar  's  awful  hard  stuff  to  lam 
I  've  been  trying  all  the  morning  to  parse  chowder.  Now,  clam  is  a 
noun,  third  person  spoken  of. 

Enter  ToMKixs,/ro7/i  house,  H.  n. 

Singular  (sees  TOMKIXS)  ;  yes,  and  damned  singular,  too. 

Tom.  (rot  noticing  JEDKDIAH).  Now  I  am  in  the  air  I  can  scarcely 
keep  myself  cool.  First  that  rhyming  rascal  puts  me  in  a  passion  ; 
and  when  I  get  a  little  over  that,  that  wench  Ellen,  with  her  diso- 
bedience, pipes  me  hot  again.  Something  must  be  done.  I  '11  report 
Ned's  death,  and  then  I  may  carry  my  point  ;  for  I  believe  she  would 
prefer  any  husband  rather  than  a  dead  one.  This  is  just  about  the 
time  his  cruise  is  up,  too.  That 's  unlucky.  I  must  consult  her  aunt 
about  it.  (Sees  JEDEDIAH.)  Who's  this?  A  country  lad  sent  by 
Bustle,  I  presume.  I  hope  he  doesn't  read  novels  and  make  poetry. 
At  all  events  he  looks  stupid  enough. 

Jed.   How  de  du,  major  ?     Du  you  live  here  ? 

Tom.  I  do  live  here,  and  this  is  my  house.  I  'm  sure  my  money 
paid  for  it. 

Jed.  That  is  a  nice  house  of  yourn,  really,  major  ;  but  you  ought 
to  give  it  a  new  coat  of  paint  last  spring. 

Tom.  (aside).   What  the  devil  does  the  fellow  mean? 

Jed.  Major,  I  understood  you  wanted  to  hire  a  chap  ;  I  s'pose  a 
rale  cute  one.  A  sample  stands  afore  you. 

Tom.    Yes,  I  do.     Well,  what  may  I  call  your  name? 

Jed.  You  may.call  it  the  Great  Mogul,  or  the  King  of  the  Cannibal 
Islands,  if  you  're  a  mind  tu  ;  but  it  ain't.  I  say,  major,  I  wonder 
if  we  can  agree  about  wages  ? 

Tom.    Well,  what  can  you  do  to  make  yourself  of  service  to  me  ? 

Jed.  Wai,  I  can  do  nothing  just  as  easy  as  anything,  now  ;  but  I 
tell  you,  when  I  lived  at  hum,  dad  used  to  work  me  like  Jehu. 
You  don't  know  our  place,  I  guess.  I  tell  you,  we  can  raise  more 
pumpkins,  and  young  uns,  and  blue-nosed  potatoes  than  we  can  har- 
vest, a  darned  sight. 

Tom.    But  you  did  n't  tell  me  your  name. 

Jed.  Wai,  you  see  my  dad's  first  wife  was  a  second  cousin  to  Ben 
Hannerferd's  daughter  Jerusha,  —  she  that  married  Ike  Armstrong  ; 
and  arter  they  'd  had  four  children,  —  two  gals,  one  boy,  and  a  crip- 
ple, —  she  died,  one  day.  eating  artichokes  when  she  had  the  chicken- 
pox,  and  left  all  the  children  on  Ike's  hands.  But  he  seems  to  get 
along  purty  well,  and  I  guess  they  don't  want  for  nothin'. 

Tom.  (aside).  I  shall  have  his  whole  history  directly.  Mj  lad, 
jump  ever  your  family,  and  let  me  know  who  you  are, 

Jed.  My  name 's  JeJediah  Homebread,  —  called  Ted  for  short,— 
f  allowed  to  be  the  smartest  cliap  at  a  husjtin'  or  log-rcTlin'  in  our  parts, 
besides  knowin  something  about  grammar. 


10  THE   GREEN   MOtJMAlJJ  BO*.  [ACT  1. 

Tom.  (aside).  I  like  this  young  man.  I  fancy  lie  will  do  just  as  I 
wish  him.  He  is  rather  talkative,  but  I  can  break  him  of  that.  Well, 
young  man,  I  think  you  will  suit  me.  I  '11  make  trial  of  you,  at  any 
rate.  You  can  read  and  write,  I  presume  ?  —  you  have  been  to  school 
I  dare  say  a  good  deal. 

Jed.  Wai,  I  used  to  go  to  school  in  the  winter,  a  spell,  —  that  is,  I 
hauled  wood  one  month,  split  rails  one  month,  went  tu  mill  part  o' 
the  time,  and  tu  school  about  two  weeks. 

Tom.  Say  no  more,  young  man  ;  I  '11  hire  you  ;  but  you  must  re- 
laember,  I  am  very  particular.  What  I  say  in  my  house  is  law  ;  and 
above  all  I  must  never  be  contradicted.  It  puts  me  in  a  passion  di- 
rectly. 

Jed.  But  what  wages  are  you  going  to  give  me  ? 

Tom.  If  you  suit  me  I  don't  mind  what  I  pay  you.  We  shan't 
quarrel. 

Jed.   Wai,  all  right.    I  say,  tell  me  your  name. 

Tom.   Tomkins  ;  you  must  call  me  Squire  Tomkins. 

Jed.   Wai,  I  will.     Why  didn't  you  tell  us  that  afore  ? 

Tom.  Come  into  the  house  with  me.  I  '11  find  a  room  for  you  ;  and 
to-day  is  a  busy  day.  I  dare  say  they  '11  find  something  for  you 
to  do. 

Jed.  May  be  they  '11  want  me  to  larn  'em  grammar. 

Tom.  Nonsense  ;  put  your  grammar  away.  I  '11  find  something 
else  for  you  to  do.  [Exit  into  house,  R.  H.  u.  E. 

Jed.  (looking  at  book).  I  is  a  personal  pronoun  ;  square  's  a  noun. 
Pronouns  go  before  nouns.  I  don't  see  how  that  can  be  ;  'cause  the 
square  he  went  off  fust  — 

Enter  WILKINS  through  gate,  from  E.  H.  —  Comes  down  B.  H. 

Wilkins.  This  is  the  house.  I  think  my  letters  must  have  strength- 
ened the  old  man's  good  opinion  of  me.  'T  is  a  bold  push  ;  but  I  'm 
in  for  it  now,  and  must  go  on.  Thirty  thousand  is  worth  a  little  hard 
work.  I  think  I  am  not  indifferent  to  the  lady  ;  I  believe  she  loves 
me  ;  so  all  is  safe  that  way.  I  want  her  money  ;  the  old  man  wants 
my  title —  Who's  here?  One  of  the  servants,  I  presume.  I  must 
begin  my  new  character.  Who  are  you  ? 

Jed.   lisa  personal  pronoun  — 

Wil.  Yes,  I  dare  say  ;  but  who  are  you  ? 

Jed .   I  say,  you  got  out  of  the  stage,  yonder,  did  n't  you? 

Wil  A  damned  inquistive  Yankee.  Yes,  I  did  get  out  of  the  stage  ; 
what  then  ? 

Jed.   0,  nothin'. 

Wil.   Come,  sir,  show  me  to  my  master. 

Jed.   Do  you  mean  my  master,  the  squire  ? 

Wil.   If  you  will  show  me  the  way  — 

Jed.   What  do  you  do  for  a  livin'  ? 

Wil.  Curse  the  fellow's  impudence  !  But  I  cannot  find  my  way 
without  him.  Go  to  the  gentleman,  sir.  I  presume  you  can  parse 
that. 

Jed.  Yes,  I  can  parse  that.  Go  is  an  unsartin  irregular  verb, 
«ulky  mood,  imperfect  tense  ;  first,  person  go,  second  person  go  it, 
third  person  no  go  ;  made  to  ngree  with  old  dud's  bay  horse  Dick. 


SCKSE  111.]  1HE  GfiEES   MOUNTAIN   BOT.  11 

Wil.   Ha  !  ha  !    Now  parse  gentleman. 

Jed.   Gentleman  is  a  distracted  noun,  ridiculous  mood,  past  tense, 
and  governed  generally  by  feminine  gender  — 
Tom.  (in  house).    Jedediah  ! 
Jed.   There,  that 's  the  squire's  voice. 
Wil.   It  is,  indeed.     Now  for  it. 

Enter  TUMKixs./rom  house. 

Ha  !  my  dear  sir,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  How  is  my  charming  Ellen, 
your  daughter? 

Tom.   0,  my  lord,  I  'm  proud  to  take  you  by  the  hand. 

Jed.    Lord  !     I  wonder  if  he  's  a  lord.     Squire,  introduce  me. 

Tom.  Hold  your  tongue,  Jedediah.  (To  WILKINS)  That's  a 
young  man  I  hired  to-day  to  assist  me,  as  I  expected  you.  Go  in, 
Jedediah. 

Jed.  Yes,  I  will.  (Aside")  He  a  lord  !  He  don't  look  as  though 
he  knowed  enough  to  enjoy  the  Christian  era.  [Exit,  into  house. 

Wil.  Mr.  Tomkins,  now  that  we  are  alone,  let  me  squeeze  your 
hand  in  friendship  ;  though  in  my  own  country  it  would  be  considered 
degrading,  and  beneath  the  dignity  of  nobility,  to  be  thus  familiar 
irith  a  commoner. 

Tom.  Thank  you  for  your  condescension.  Come,  walk  into  the 
house.  [Exeunt,  ceremoniously,  into  house. 

SCENE  III. 1  Room,  in  TOMKIXS'  House,  2  a.  —  Door  in  r.,  used. 

—  Two  chairs  sent  on. 

Enter  Miss  SQUEAMISH,  R,  H. 

Miss  S.  (reading  a  slip  of  paper). 

Daphne,  Dian,  you  are  all  that '»  chaste, 
[f flour  and  water  boiled  makes  paste  ; 
And  I  do  love  thee,  venerable  Mentis  ; 
And  naught  but  love  shall  go  between  us. 

0,  the  dear,  poetic  man  !  I  declare  this  Mr.  Shakspeare  is  a  divinity, 
—  a  Jupiter,  —  a  Bacchus  !  I  do  not  let  him  know  all  my  feelings. 
When  he  is  with  me  I  am  all  indifference,  as  a  prudent  virgin  should 
be  ;  and  when  he  is  away  I  melt  in  anticipated  raptures. 

Enter  JOE,  r.  n.  1  K. 

Joe.  Miss  Squeamish,  I  come  to  know  if  you  will  dine  to-day  with 
nis  lordship,  at  the  family  table? 

Miss  S.  I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Shakspeare,  There  will  be  men  there 
I  like  not  their  company. 

Joe.  0,  more  's  the  pity  !  I  wish  you  did,  Miss  Squeamish.  Why 
can't  you  ?  All  men  would  be  your  admirers,  and  I  the  chief. 

Miss  S.  I  know  you  say  so  ;  but  how  am  I  to  know  it  is  so  ?  Ton 
seducing  men  !  you  snare  a  maiden's  heart 

Joe.  (aside).  Ah  !  now 's  the  time.  I  '11  take  her  by  storm.  I'll 
pour  forth  rhapsody  and  poetics. 

0  angelic  maiden  !  l>y  your  1. ire  I  'm  struck  ; 

1  N   -  i  li«c  ar>  ox,  when  th«  butcher's  stuck  — 

An4  there  I  stick.     <>,  fur  iii?j>irati(m  ! 


12  THE   GREEN   MOtSTAtJf   BOf.  [ACT  I. 

M-SS  S.    For  what,  Mr.  Shakspeare? 

Joe.  For  inspiration,  to  breathe  out  iny  life,  and  expire  at  your  fee* 
in  ecstasy  ! 

Miss  S,  You  must  n't  stay  any  longer.  I  shall  melt !  Why  don't 
you  go  ? 

Jot.   I  can't.     I  'm  detained  by  supernatural  means. 

Miss  S.   I  don't  understand  you. 

Joe.  That 's  because  you  will  not.  Love  detains  me  ;  not  fatherly 
love,  nor  motherly  love,  nor  easterly  love  ;  but  lover-like  love,  as  my 
namesake  says. 

Miss  S.  0,  that  namesake  of  yours  was  an  angelic  mortal  !  and  so 
are  you.  Go  now.  After  dinner  we  may  meet  in  the  diamond  bower  ; 
and  there  we  can  "  waste  our  sweetness  on  the  desert  air,"  as  you* 
namesake  says.  But  go,  now,  I  implore  you  ! 

Joe.   I  can't  go.      (Kneels.) 

Your  image  haunts  me,  awake  or  asleep, 
And  makes  me  baa  like  a  woolly  sheep. 
I  am  n  sheep  ;  you  most  my  shepherd  be, 
And  I  '11  bleet  and  baa  akme  for  thee. 

Enter  JEDEDIAH,  L.  H.  1  K.  —  JOE  rises. 

Jed.  Joe,  what  on  airth  are  you  doin'  ?  The  squire  and  me  have 
been  huntin'  arter  you  all  over  creation.  He  said  he  sent  you  some- 
where, but  you  !d  been  gone  so  long  he  'd  forgot  where  he  sent  you. 

Miss  S.  I  am  glad  you  came  in,  young  man.  He  would  have  staid 
all  day,  reading  his  poetry.  I  shall  inform  his  master  of  him. 
(Aside  to  JOE)  Ah  !  this  is  lover's  artifice,  my  dear.  I  do  not  mean 
what  I  say.  0,  my  fluttering  heart !  [Exit,  S.  H.  1  B, 

Joe.   I  'm  satisfied.     All  is  right. 

Jed.  Why  Joe,  what  in  thunder  was  you  and  that  old  critter  doing  T 
You  was  clus  enough  together  to  make  a  pair  o'  Siamese  Twins., 

Joe.   Young  man,  don't  talk  to  me.     I  'm  a  scholar. 

Jed.   Wai,  that 's  nothing.     So  b.e  I  tu. 

Joe.   What  does  your  scholarship  consist  of? 

Jed.  Why,  larnin"  generally.  I  don't  pretend  to  doctor  larnin',  or 
lawyer  larnin',  or  preacher  larnin';  but  for  the  rale  genuine  grammar 
larnin'  I  am  a  six-horse  team  and  a  big  dog  under  the  waggon. 

Joe.   Yon  have  tried  the  poetics,  I  suppose? 

Jed.   No,  I  never  tried  him,  —  not  as  I  knows  on. 

Joe.   Did  you  never  try  at  all  ? 

Jed.  0  yes,  I  've  helped  try  out  often,  and  sweat  like  a  butcher  »U 
the  time. 

Joe.   May  I  know  the  subjects  of  your  labor? 

Jed.    0  yes  ;  hog's  lard,  beef  fat,  and  taller. 

Joe.   That's  not  what  I  mean.     I  mean  classic  — 

Jed.  Sick  !  no  none  of  us  ever  got  sick  ;  but  it  was  plaguy  greasy 
work,  I  can  tell  yon.  I  '11  never  forget  the  trying  scrape  we  had 
when  we  killed  our  old  black  and  white  sow.  O  !  she  was  the  awful- 
lest  fattest  old  ci-ittcr  you  ever  did  sec.  I  know  Aunt  Eunice  Lovejoy 
was  up  to  our  house,  iliat  d:i  v  ;  and  I  recollect  I  was  busy  studying 
syntax,  and  I  did  n't  want  io  lay  down  my  book  ;  so  I  took  one  hand 


tat:  OK*IS  Motr.vrAis  not.  13 

and  throwd  a  hull  lot  of  shavings  under  the  pot,  that  ma  le  it  bile 
over  so  quick  it  all  went  on  our  Eunice  ;  and  I  declare  if  she  did  n'1 
look  worse  than  a  scalded  shoat,  on  the  last  day  o'  hog-killin'  Uncle 
Jonah  told  her  he  'd  give  me  a  lickin'  for  it ;  but  I  knew  he  would  n't, 
'cause  he  hated  the  old  critter  worse  than  a  skunk.  But  look  here, 
Joe,  —  I  like  to  forget  it,  —  the  square  says  that  we  must  clean  out 
the  best  room. 

Joe.  I  '11  see  to  it.  I  '11  go  to  the  garden  first,  and  get  some  vege- 
tables for  dinner.  [Exit,  L.  u.  1  E. 

Jed.  I  guess  I  '11  have  the  old  man  give  me  the  situation  to  oversee 
Joe.  The  square  thinks  my  clothes  ain't  good  enough  to  be  round 
here  with.  I  wish  he  'd  keep  thinking  so  ;  maybe  he  '11  get  me  a  new 
suit.  Wai,  I  '11  go  down  and  see  if  Joe  is  getting  any  sarce  for  din- 
ner. If  he  don't  quit  making  poetry  for  that  old  woman,  and  tend  to 
his  chorea  better  than  he  has  done  lately,  I  '11  have  the  square  dis- 
charge him  quicker  than  s'cat.  The  critter  has  got  so  industriously 
lazy  lately  he  has  to  git  up  about  twelve  o'clock  every  night,  and  rest 
his  hands  and  face  on  the  head-board.  [Exit,  L.  H.  1  & 

Enter  ELLEN,  c.  D. 

El.  Well,  now  what  am  I  to  do?  My  father  insists  on  my  marry- 
ing this  lord.  If  I  remain  obstinate  I  know  he  will  lock  me  up  ;  and 
then  if  Edward  should  come  I  should  n't  see  him  —  A  lucky  thought, 
—  I  will  pretend  I  do  love  him,  and  acquiesce  in  all  my  father  says. 
Then  I  shall  not  be  restrained  from  walking  out  alone  ;  and  when  Ed- 
ward comes  I  '11  elope  with  him.  Lucy  !  I  '11  make  Lucy  my  confi- 
dant, and  prepare  for  his  arrival. 

Enter  LUCT,  B.  n.  1  E. 

Lucy.    Did  you  call  me,  miss? 

El.  Yes,  I  believe  I  did  ;  I  called  you  because  I  heard  you  say,  the 
other  day,  what  a  pretty  ring  I  had  on  my  forefinger.  I  make  you  a 
present  of  it,  Lucy.  (Gives  ring.) 

Lu.    Thank  you,  miss.     Is  this  all  you  called  me  for? 

El.  Yes  ;  but  as  you  are  here  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question.  Did 
you  ever  run  away,  Lucy  ? 

Lu.  Me  !  Run  away  ?  Bless  me  !  no.  Whoever  thought  of  such 
a  thing  ? 

El.   Yes,  run  away.     I  heard  you  were  in  love  once.     Is  it  true  ? 

Lu.   (aside).  I  wonder  who  told  her.     Me  !     0  no,  miss  ;  no  ! 

El.  Ah  !  there  is  a  young  man  I  know.  Now,  if  he  would  marry 
you,  and  your  father  objected,  would  n't  you  do  so  too  ? 

Lu.    Do  so  too  !     Do  what,  ma'am  ? 

El.   Why,  I  told  you.     Hun  away  with  him,  to  be  sure. 

Lu.   0  no,  not  I,  miss  !     Run  away  !  for  what  ? 

El.  How  dull  you  are  !  My  father  would  force  me  to  marry  one 
man,  and  my  wish  is  to  marry  another.  Now,  I  'm  going  to  mak« 
believe  love  him,  till  Cousin  Edward  comes. 

•  Lu.  Make  believe  love,  miss  !  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  I 
should  never  know  how  to  begin  — 

fEl.    Now,  if  Cousin    Edward   conies  he  will  not  be  allowed  tc  enter 
•2 


14  THE  GREEN   MOUNTAIN  EOT.  [ACT  L, 

the  house  ;  so  if  somebody  could  contrive  to  happen  to  see  him  tot 
me  — 

Lu.  Well,  miss  ?    So  ;  I  see  how  it  is  — - 

EL  And  then  I  should  happen  to  see  him,  too,  and  he  should  hap- 
pen ta  carry  me  off,  —  why,  I  could  n't  help  that,  —  you  shall  ga  too, 
Lucy—- 

L\'..   Me  !    0  no  !  I  can't  do  that.     I  shall  lose  my  place. 

El.  Only  a  little  way,  till  I  get  used  to  it ;  then  you  may  come 
back  again. 

Lu.  But  perhaps,  —  I  only  say  perhaps  ;  —  you  told  me,  the  other 
day,  that  your  cousin  had  been  gone  five  years.  That 's  a  long  time 
for  a  man  to  keep  in  one  mind.  He  might  have  run  away  with  some- 
body else,  before  now. 

Wilkins  (without,  L.  H.  1  E.)  0  !  thank  you  ;  show  me  the  door, 
and  I  '11  find  the  room  myself. 

El.   Didn't  I  hear  somebody  speak,  on  the  stairs? 

Lu.  I  thought  so. 

El.  Don't  mention  to  my  aunt  a  word  of  what  I  have  told  you  ;  and 
if  Edward  comes  you  promise  to  assist  me. 

Lu.  Yes,  miss,  I  will. 

El.  Go  to  my  chamber,  and  take  as  many  of  my  jewels  as  yo» 
please.  If  they  won't  suit  you  I  '11  give  you  money  to  get  new  ones  ; 
but  keep  my  secret. 

Lu.   0,  never  fear  me,  miss.  [Exit,  L.  H.  1  K.:. 

El.   'T  is  Montague.     Now  for  my  pretended  change. 

Enler  WILKINS,  L.  n.  1  E. 

Wil.  So,  my  angel,  your  father  informs  me  your  indifference  to 
your  devoted  was  unreal.  Is  it  so  ? 

El.  Why,  sir,  I  did  n't  choose  that  you  should  know  my  real  senti- 
ments ;  nor  did  I  expect  he  would  have  informed  you.  But  since  it  is 
BO — 

Wil.  I  am  happy  to  hear  it.  I  have  a  volume  of  conversation  in 
store  for  you.  I  signifusi  to  your  father  my  willingness  to  raise  you  to 
a  title,  in  earnest  of  hjw  much  I  love  you  ;  although  I  believe  it  is 
anti-fashionable  to  say  so. 

El.  I  duly  appreciate  the  honor  to  be  conferred.  I  am  aware  of 
the  great  condescension  on  your  part,  and  am  grateful  for  the  interest 
you  take  in  our  family. 

Wil.  (aside).  You  will  not  be  so  grateful  for  the  interest  I  shall 
take  out  of  it.  Will  Miss  Tomkins  so  far  honor  her  devoted  slave  and 
obsequious  admirer  as  to  allow  me  her  arm,  for  a  walk  in  the  garden. 
(Aside'  I  must  keep  it  up. 

El.  (aside).  I  suppose  I  must.  With  pleasure,  sir.  I  '11  just  step 
out  and  arrange  my  dress,  and  be  with  you  directly. 

Wil.   I  shall  wait  for  you  at  the  gate.          [Exit  ELLEN,  H.  H.  1  K. 

Enler  TOMKINS,  c.  D. 

Tom.  I  have  been  standing  with  my  ear  to  the  door.     I  heard  it 
ftU.     I  knew  how  it  would  be.     Where  are  you  going?     Stop! 
Wil.    I  must  be  excused.     Ellen  expects  me.     Don't  detain  me 


iCENE    IV.  1  THK   GREKN   MOUNTAIN    DOT.  15 

Tom.  Detain  you  !  no  ;  but  as  things  are  going,  can't  you  call  m« 
something  more  than  squire  ?  1  want  to  be  called  Lord  Tomkins,  ot 
Sir  Jonas,  or  something  that  sounds  noble  and  great. 

Wil.  (aside).  The  old  fool  anticipates  his  honor.  0  yes,  Sir  Jonas, 
I  can  give  you  a  title,  pro  tern.  When  we  arrive  at  home  the  king 
will  give  his  sanction.  Kneel  Mr.  Tomkins  (TOMKINS  kneels.  —  WIL- 
KIXS  touches  him  with  cane  on  shoulder);  rise  Sir  Jonas  Tomkir.8. 
Adieu,  Sir  Jonas.  [Exit,  n.  u.  1  E. 

Tom.  He  said  it !  How  it  sounds  !  —  Sir  Jonas  i  They  shall  call 
me  nothing  but  Sir  Jonas.  Here,  Jedediah  !  This  is  all  I  wanted. 
Now  I  am  happy.  (Dances  and  capers  about.) 

Enter  JEDEDIAH,  L.  n.  1  E. 

Jed.   What 's  the  matter,  squire  ?     You  got  the  spring  halt. 

Tom.   Where  are  all  my  servants,  Jedediah,  and  my  family? 

Jed.  Wai,  I  don't  know.  I  guess  they  're  all  purty  busy  doing 
something.  But  I  say,  ain't  it  purty  nigh  dinner  time?  I  'm  getting 
awful  hungry,  squire. 

Tom.    Squire  !     Don't  call  me  squire,  sir. 

Jed.   Why,  that 's  what  I  agreed  to  call  you. 

Tom.  Yes  ;  but  things  are  changed  now.  Tell  Joe  when  he  meets 
me  to  call  me  Sir  Jonas  ;  and  you  call  me  Sir  Jonas  too.  Tell  the 
cook-maid,  and  chamber-maid,  the  ostler  and  the  cow-boy,  all  to  call 
me  Sir  Jonas.  I  '11  tell  the  rest  myself.  Jedediah,  why  don't  you 
change  your  clothes  ? 

Jed.  Why,  you  see,  squire,  —  I  mean  Sir  Jonas,  —  I  hain't  got 
anything  only  what  I  got  on. 

Tom.  Come  along  with  me  ;  I  '11  find  some  for  you  to-day  ;  and  to- 
morrow you  shall  have  a  new  suit  from  the  tailor.  [Exit,  R.  n.  1  E. 

Jed.  Ha,  ha  !  its  all  right.  I  knew  when  I  called  him  Sir  Jonas  I 
was  good  for  the  toggery.  Now  1 11  go  and  dress  up.  I  expect  I  shall 
look  almighty  fierce.  Maybe  I  '11  see  Lucy.  Lucy  is  a  proper  nice 
gal.  The  only  objection  I  got  to  her  is  she  snores  so  distressin'  loud. 
She  snored  so  loud  the  other  night  she  was  obliged  to  go  to  the  neigh- 
bors to  sleep,  to  keep  from  waking  herself  up.  [Exit,  R.  H.  1  E, 

SCENE  IV.  —  Garden,  as  in  Scene  II. 
Enter  WtLKiNS/ro/n  house,  E.  H. 

Wil.  To  avoid  that  staring  servant,  I  left  the  gate  ;  and  now  I  have 
missed  the  lady.  I  wish  I  could  hurry  this  business  a  little  ;  four 
weeks  is  so  long.  I  am  in  no  very  easy  situation  here  ;  every  moment 
in  fear  of  detection.  If  I  could  get  the  old  man  to  advance  something, 
and  I  should  be  detected  in  any  of  my  little  swindling  speculations,  I 
might  nvoid  Justice,  who  stumbles  over  nothing  so  soon  as  money,  in 
her  blind  march.  A  young  officer  entering  the  gate.  A  stranger.  — 
He  does  not  appear  acquainted  with  the  premises. 

Enter  EDWARD,  c.,from  L. 

Edward  (down  L.  n.)  Good  day,  sir.  I  presume  I  address  th* 
lord  of  this  mansion  ? 


16  THE  OfcEEX   MOUNTAIN   EOT.  [ACT  v, 

Wil.,  R.  (aside).  So,  he  has  heard  of  me,  then.  Yes,  I  am  the 
lord  of  this  mansion.  Proceed,  young  man,  with  your  business. 

Ed.  I  received  your  polite  invitation,  and  have  done  myself  the 
honor  of  waiting  upon  you. 

WiL  Oh  ho  !  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Pray,  by  what  name  is  youv4 
family  designated  ? 

Ed.    My  card,  sir,  will  inform  you.     (Gives  card.) 

Wil.  (aside).  Merston  !  The  devil  ;  that  name  !  The  very  name 
of —  I  dare  say  there  are  many  of  the  name.  You  are  in  the  navy, 
I  presume? 

Ed.  I  am,  sir.  (Aside)  This  must  be  some  mistake. —I  was  told 
he  was  an  old  gentleman. 

Wil,  Well,  Merston,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  hope  you  will  lik« 
me  so  well  as  to  stay  till  I  am  married.  'T  will  be  shortly  ;  and  her* 
Comes  the  angel  to  whom  I  am  to  be  united. 

Enter  ELLEN,  from  house,  n.  u. 

EL,  R.  n.   My  lord,  I  am  sorry  I  have  kept  you  waiting. 

Ed.   What  do  I  see  ?  —  Ellen  ! 

EL   Edward  !    What  a  situation  !     And  now  I  cannot  explain. 

Ed.   So,  it 's  my  Ellen,  after  all.   ' 

WiL,  c.  Why,  what 's  the  matter  with  the  people?  I  suppose  you 
Wait  for  a  formal  introduction.  Mr.  Merston,  Miss  Tomkins  — 

Ed.,1,.  Tomkins!  Am  I  in  my  senses?  Miss  Ellen,  what  arc  I 
to  understand  by  this  ? 

EL   What  shall  I  say  ?    Edward  — 

Ed.  I  see,  —  five  years  may  change  the  most  constant. 

EL   But  Edward,  his  lordship  — 

Ed.  It  appears,  then,  sir,  you  are  not  the  master  of  this  house. 
Whoever  you  may  be,  I  care  not.  Be  pleased  to  explain  how  and  why 
I  find  that  lady  here  ;  and  by  what  right  you  call  her  Tomkins. 

Wil.  Young  man,  when  you  address  me  you  are  to  suppose  you 
address  Lord  Montague,  sir,  of  Romney  Castle,  as  per  card.  (Handt 
one.)  As  to  any  particulars  as  regards  this  lady,  if  they  in  the  least 
concern  you,  ask  them  of  herself. 

Ed.  No  ;  with  her  I  will  not  exchange  a  word.  You  are  to  be 
married.  I  will  be  present  at  the  ceremony.  I  promised  that,  and  I 
will  keep  my  word.  She  knows  it.  (ELLEN  retires  up  c.)  I  shall  b« 
glad  to  hear  from  you,  in  answer  to  my  question. 

Wil.  Young  man,  your  conversation  does  not  please  the  lady. 
Mr.  Tomkins,  this  lady's  father,  will  explain  everything  to  your  satis- 
faction. Here  he  comes,  sir.  (Aside)  Curse  this  fellow  ;  'tis  her 
cousin.  (Goes  up  to  ELLEN.) 

Enter  To>iKixs,/rom  house,  n.  H. 

Tom.  Odds  !  flints  and  steel  !  I  'm  so  happy  !  There  they  are,  bil. 
ling  and  cooing,  as  fond  as  turtle  doves. 

Ed.   Sure  I  know  that  voice.     My  dear  uncle  ! 

TOOT.  Who's  that?  Ned!  (Crosses  to  him.)  Ilowd'yedo?  — 
t  'in  glad  to  see  you.  Look  thoro  !  —  there  is  your  I'.ttle  Cousin  Ellen. 

El.    I  h-vl  Ion n  I  tint  out  before  vcu  cane,  sir. 


8C1SK  IV.]  TI1K   GREEN    MOUNTAIN    DOT.  17 

Tom.  She  's  going  to  be  married  —  to  a  lord  !  There,  Ned,  that  's 
his  lordship. 

Ed.  I  had  found  that  out  too,  sir.  Before  I  went  to  sea,  you  had 
promised  her  to  me.  I  loved  her  then. 

Tom.  Pooh  !  nonsense  !  Now  I  remember.  Out  of  ray  house,  di- 
rectly ! 

Ed.   I  am  not  in  your  house,  sir. 

Tom.  Out  of  my  grounds  !  I  won't  have  you  in  my  territories  till 
the  wedding's  over  ;  and  maybe  not  then.  Ellen  doesn't  want  you 
now. 

Ed.  I  know  it,  sir.  She  has,  by  her  actions,  told  me  so.  She 
weds  another.  Well,  farewell  (going  L.);  my  little  frigate  will  soon 
again  be  ready  for  sea.  I  "11  jump  on  board,  and  as  we  stem  the  foam- 
ing billow,  I  may  think  of  times  past,  and —  0!  damme,  Ned,  this  is 
too  boyish.  Good  bye,  Uncle  Tomkiiis  !  —  I  don't  know  how  you  got 
the  name. 

Tom.,  H.  n.  What !  dare  you  dispute  my  name?  It 's  mine  by  act 
of  Parliament,  —  no,  I  don't  mean  that  ;  by  act  of  Court  assembled. 
Hark  'e,  Ned  ;  I  don't  remember  ever  giving  Ellen  to  you  ;  so  tell  his 
lordship  you  don't  love  her.  It  may  save  him  uneasiness. 

Ed.   Never,  sir ! 

Tom.  You  are  a  disobliging  young  rascal,  and  you  shan't  stay  in 
my  company  another  hour.  ( Goes  up.) 

Ed.  I  shall  not,  indeed,  sir  !  nor  in  the  same  town.  I  leave  you 
forever,  and  your  finnikin  lord  and  lady,  there. 

El.  (down  R.)  I  must  undeceive  him.  Could  he  but  know  the 
feelings  of  my  heart !  —  If  I  knew  his  lodgings.  —  'tis  a  rash  step, 
but  I  can  think  of  no  surer  way.  My  lord,  (ToMKixs  comes  down  c.) 
this  young  spark  has  offended  both  you  and  me.  His  conduct  de- 
mands atonement. 

Wil.  Yes,  my  love,  it  does.  (Jlside)  1  .shall  get  myself  into  a 
pretty  scrape  here.  I  '11  bully  him.  Young  man,  where  are  you  to 
be  found,  that  I  may  chastise  you,  at  a  proper  time,  for  your  insult 
to  me. 

Ed.  (advancing  towards  him,  c.)  Chastise  me,  sir  !  I  am  here  ! 
—  No  time  like  the  present. 

Wil.  (aside).  He  's  not  to  be  frightened.  The  presence  of  a 
lady  — 

Ed.   Send  the  lady  into  the  house. 

Wil.   No,  sir  ;  your  address,  if  you  please. 

Ed.   For  a  few  BWra,  I  may  be  found  at  the  hotel  below. 

El.   (aside).  I  will  send  to  him.     He  shall  know  my  mind. 

Tom.,  R.  c.    Come,  come,  I  '11  have  no  fighting. 

Ed.  I.  shall  be  impatient  till  I  hear  from  you.  If  I  am  to  leave  tks 
town,  I  care  not  how  soon.  You  will  find  me  ready,  sir. 

[Exit,  L.  n.  1  E, 

El.  (aside).  He  did  not  even  look  at  me.  They  must  not  have 
cause  to  suspect  my  design.  I  'm  glad  he 's  gone,  father  ;  he 's  so 
rude.  How  he  has  changed  since  he  has  been  at  sea  ! 

Tom.   But  for  all  that,  I  '11  have  no  fighting. 
Wil.  (aside).    Nor  I,  if  I  can  help  it. 

f  El.   No.     Mv  lor.l,  I  am  sorry  I  urged  you  to  it,  to  be  shot  at  by 
2* 


18  THE    QUEEN    MOUNTAIN    EOT.  [i  H    I. 

such  a  wild  fellow.  He  may  kill  you.  (Aside)  I  must  prevent  their 
meeting. 

Wil.  Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  my  dear  If  he  dares  come  out 
I  can  shoot. 

El.   Father,  let  us -retire  into  the  house. 

Tom.  Take  her  in.  [Exeunt  ELLEN  and  WILKINS,  into  house. 

I  '11  send  to  Ned.  There  shall  be  no  fight.  Jedediah  !  I  '11  send  him 
down  to  the  hotel  at  once.  Flints  and  steel  I  if  I  don't  look  out  I 
never  shall  have  a  lord  for  a  son.  [Exit,  into  house. 

SCENE  V. 1  Chamber  in  TOMKINS'  House,  1  G. 

Enter  JEDEDIAH,  dressed  up  in  livery,  r,.  H.  1  E. 

Jed.  (admiring  his  dress).  Wai,  now  I  guess  I  look  about  as  piert 
as  anybody  that  travels  this  section  of  the  country  ;  and  I  feel  about 
as  grand  as  a  large-sized  turkey-gobbler,  when  his  hen  is  a  settin'. 
(Looks  off  E.)  Hello  !  here  comes  Lucy.  Now  for  a  little  courtin' 
Bcrape. 

Enter  LUCY,  R.  H.  1  E. 

What  do  you  think  o'  me  now,  Lucy  ? 

Lu.   I  don't  think  on  you  at  all,  you  stupid  country  booby. 

Jed.  Wai,  I  guess  you  wish  to  consider  me  in  the  objective  case. 

Lu.   You  had  better  go  and  take  off  your  master's  clothes. 

Jed.  Now  look  tsre,  you  need  n't  go  to  blackguardin'.  They  're 
bran  new  ;  —  he  jes*  bought  'em.  But  you  better  go  and  take  off 
your  mistress'  calico  gu\n.  She  gave  it  tu  you,  I  know  she  did. 

Lu.  Mistress'  gown,  indeed  1  I  bought  it,  and  paid  for  it,  with 
my  own  money,  so  I  did. 

Jed.  Come,  Luce,  don't  let  us  quarrel.  Tell  you,  I  know'd  a  chap 
as  kissed  a  gal  once.  Give  me  a  kiss,  Luce,  and  I  '11  give  you  nine- 
pence  in  silver. 

Lu.  Saucy,  impudent  blockhead  !    Ninepence,  indeed  ! 

Jed.  0,  you  needn't  turn  up  your  nose  at  ninepence.  Afore  I've 
been  here  long  you  '11  be  glad  to  let  me  kiss  you  for  nothin',  and  give 
me  something  to  boot,  tu. 

Tom.  (without,  n.)   Lucy  ! 

Jed.  There 's  the  square  callin'  on  you  —  Sir  Jonas,  I  mean. 

Enter  TOMKINS,  n.  H.  1  E. 

\Yell,  Sir  Jonas,  how  will  I  do  now  ? 

Tom.  Lucy,  Ellen  wants  you.  [Exit  LUCY,  K.  H.  I  K. 

(To  JEDEDIAU)  Here,  take  this  to  the  hotel.  (Gives  Idler.) 

Jed.  (taking  it).  What 'sin  it? 

Tom.  What's  that  to  you?  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  do  as  I  bid  you, 
and  never  to  ask  me  any  questions.  If  he  asks  any  questions  of  you, 
say  I  was  resolved  ;  and  stick  to  your  story. 

Jed.  Stick  to  my  story  !  I  always  could  do  that ;  but  old  Uncle 
Jonah,  he  used  to  be  the  darndest  old  critter  to  tell  stories  you  ever  did 
see.  He  got  surprised,  though,  one  day  ;  —  he  had  a  black  hen,  and 
•he  laid  a  white  egg. 


SCENE    I.j 


THK    GRKI.N    MOUNTAIN    BOT.  18 


Tom.   Ha  !  ha  !  ha  '. 

Jed.  Uncle  Jonah  and  I  we  had  twenty  cows,  between  us.  He  had 
nineteen,  and  I  had  one  ;  —  mine  was  a  calf. 

Tom.   Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  one  of  the  cows  was  a  calf! 

[Exit  R.  H.,  laughing  heartily. 

Jed.  Wai,  I  've  got  the  sqare  in  a  good  humor  again.  Maybe  he  '11 
give  me  another  suit  of  clothes  ;  so  I  '11  go  right  down  with  this  let- 
ter. (GoesL.) 

Enter  LCCY,  with  letter,  B.  H.  1  E. 

Lu.    Stop,  Mr.  Jedediah.     Where  are  you  going? 

Jed.  Going  down  to  the  tavern  with  a  letter,  for  the  square.  I  'm 
in  an  awful  hurry  ! 

Lu.   Take  this  down,  too.     (Offers  letter,) 

Jed.  You  got  to  give  me  a  kiss,  then,  or  I  won't  du  it.  (Takes 
letter.) 

Lu.  (aside).  I  suppose  I  must,  for  Miss  Ellen's  sake.  There. 
(JEDEDIAH  kisses  her.  —  She  runs  off  R.  H.  1  E.  —  He  looks  after  her  ; 
dances  off,  L.  u.  1  E.,  singing  "Hail  Columbia,"  SfC.  —  Quick  Drop. 

END    OF  ACT    I. 


ACT     II. 

SCENE  I.  —  The  Hotel  Yard,  1  o.  —  Door  L.  n.  F.,  practicable. 
Enter  SANDFiELD./rom  D.  F.  L.,  mvjfied  in  a  cloak. 

Sandfield.  The  landlord  informs  me  there  has  been  but  one  stranger 
arrived  at  his  house  who  didn't  pass  through  with  the  stage,  except 
Edward  and  myself. 

Enter  EDWARD,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Young  man,  why  so  soon  returned? 

Ed.  Why,  sir,  I  could  n't  very  well  stay  longer,  as  I  was  turned 
out  of  the  house. 

Sand.    What  mean  you,  sir  ? 

Ed.  Why,  sir,  this  Mr.  Tomkins  proves  to  be  no  less  a  person  than 
my  uncle. 

Sand.  Indeed  !  What  cause  have  you  given  for  such  harsh  treat- 
ment? 

Ed.  I  was  somewhat  astonished  to  find  my  uncle  here,  whom  I  left 
in  the  city,  but  more  so  to  find  my  Cousin  Ellen  about  to  be  married 
to  a  Lord  Montague  ;  so  I  merely  mentioned  a  promise  he  had  made  to 
me  to  give  me  his  daughter,  and  he  bade  me  go  about  my  business.  I 
epoke  my  mind  pretty  freely.  It  did  not  suit  his  lordship,  nor  her 
ladyship ;  and  now  I  expect  a  challenge  from  him  immediately. 

Sand.    I  must  see  this  Montague. 

Enter  JEDKDIAII,  L.  n.  1  E. 
Jtd.    How  de  du?     (To   EDWARD)  I  want  to  ask  you  one  qua* 


20  THE   OREEN    MOUNTAIN   EOT.  [ACT    O. 

tion  ;  —  be  you  the  chap  that  was  up  to  the  squire's,  a  little  whilft 
ago? 

Ed.   The  hour  of  meeting,  T  suppose.     I  was  there,  sir. 

Jed.   Wai,  so  I  thought     Here 's  a  letter  for  you.     (Gives  it.) 

Sand.   Young  man,  do  nothing  without  my  advice. 

[Exit  into  house,  l.  r>.  f. 

Ed.  (opening  and  reading  letter).  "JVed,  don't  you  fight;  if  hi* 
lordship  pulls  your  nose,  don't  you  fight  him.  You  may  kill  him; 
and  then  Ellen  will  never  be  a  lady,  nor  I  have  a  lord  for  a  son. 
If  you  want  money,  send  for  it.  His  lordship  would  meet  you  to- 
morrow morning,  but  I  am  determined  it  shall  not  be;  so  you  had 
better  mind  your  Uncle  Tomkins." 

Jed.   What  do  you  think  of  it? 

Ed.   It  requires  no  answer,  sir. 

Jed.  Yes  it  does  ;  squire  said  it  did.  Wai,  ain't  you  goin'  to  ask 
me  any  questions.  The  squire  said  you  would,  and  told  me  what  to 
say. 

Ed.  What  did  he  tell  you  to  say  ? 

Jed.  Why,  to  say  that  he  was  resolved  ;  and  to  stick  to  my  story. 
Now,  if  you  want  me  to  tell  you  a  story,  I  '11  — 

Ed.   No,  sir.     Leave  me  ! 

Jed.   Why,  what  a  pucker  he 's  in  !   Good  by,  sir.       [Exit,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Ed.  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  understand  the  drift  of  this  epistle. 
Why  did  I  not  hear  from  the  party  himself  ? 

Reenter  JEDEDIAH,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Well,  sir,  what  now? 

Jed.   Why,  darn  it,  I  was  goin'  ofl'  without  doin'  what  I  came  for. 

Ed.   Well,  sir,  what  is  it? 

Jed.   Why,  here 's  another  letter  for  you.     ( Gives  it.) 

Ed.  Well  done,  stupidity.  A  fair  hand.  —  'T  is  Ellen's.  ( Opens 
and  reads)  "Dear  Edward,  I  love  you,  as  lever  have  and  ever  shall. 
Heed  not  what  passed  in  your  presence.  It  was  but  to  deceive  my 
father,  who  would  force  me  to  marry  that  coxcomb  Montague,  for  his 
title.  I  was  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the  stratagem  of  the  meeting 
with  Montague,  that  I  might  ascertain  your  lodgings,  and  inform  you 
of  this,  as  you  said  you  should  immediately  leave  town.  If  you  had 
done  so,  and  in  ignorance  of  my  feelings  towards  you,  what  would 
have  become  of  me?  Act  as  you  think  fit.  With  full  confidence  in 
yeur  honor,  I  will  act  as  you  direct.  I  will  take  care  there  shall  be 
no  duel.  Let  me  hear  from  you  by  the  bearer  of  this.  Adieu,  till  we 
meet.  Truly  yours,  Ellen."  Can  I  believe  my  eyes,  —  my  senses? 
Yes,  't  is  real.  How  shall  I  act? 

Jed.  Wai.  what  is  it  all  about?  Are  you  goin'  to  ask  me  any  ques- 
tions now?  If  you  ain't,  I  '11  ask  you  some. 

Ed.  Stay  here  till  I  return.  Tins  requires  an  answer,  and  skall 
have  it  [Exit  into  hotel,  L.  H.  v. 

Jed.  Melt  my  Ingy  rubber  shoes  into  sticky-plaster,  if  I  don't  think 
that  chap  's  about  half  crazy  !  Maybe  he  's  in  love,  though.  Wai, 
that's  about  the  same  thing.  Speakin'  of  love,  I  wish  Luce  was  here. 
Bwow,  that  gal  is  enough  to  m  ike  a  feller  break  the  tenth  command- 
ment, by  Moses  !  [Exit,  L.  H.  1  E 


•CK.NK    II.]  THK    OBKKN    MOUNTAIN    BOI .  21 

SCENE  II. H  Room  in  TOMKIXS'  House,  2  G.  —  Door  in  r.,  uted. 

Enter  ELLE.V,  R.  H.  1  E. 

El.  So,  everything  is  prepared.  If  Edward  will  but  come,  I  '11 
•teal  from  the  party,  and  — 

Enter  JOE,  L.  u.  1  E. 
Well,  Mr.  Joseph. 

Joe.  0,  Miss  Ellen  !  behold  Love's  messenger.  There  'a  a  tide  in 
the  affairs  of  men  and  women,  as  my  namesake  says.  Here  's  a  sheet 
of  love  for  you,  entrusted  to  my  keeping  by  one  who  loves  not  wisely, 
but  too  well,  as  my  namesake  says. 

El.   Give  it  to  me,  then. 

Joe.  Not  without  some  prelude  Great  evtnts  are  always  preceded 
by  — 

Tom.  (without,  R.  H.)  Joe  ! 

Joe.    Here  comes  master.     Take  it,  quick. 

Enter  TOMKIXS,  B.  H.  1  E. 

Tom.  Come,  dinner 's  ready.  ( ELLEN  drops  letter,  in  receiving  it.) 
We  are  waiting  for  you.  I  saw  a  letter.  —  I  saw  it  drop.  Give  it  to 
me,  I  tell  you  ! 

El.  'Tis  nothing.  (Aside  to  JOE)  This  is  all  from  your  clumsy, 
stupid  negligence.  Now  say  something. 

Tom.  Why  don't  you  give  it  me?  Nothing!  What  do  you  call 
nothing?  Folded  and  sealed.  —  I  saw  it. 

Joe.  (aside).  I  have  it.  (Jlloud)  Let  him  see  it,  miss.  I  am  glad 
master  is  coming  to  the  light. 

El.  (aside).  The  fool  is  not  going  to  let  him  read  it,  surely.  Joseph. 
'Tis  from  Edward. 

Joe.  Give  it  me.  ( Takes  it  from  her.  —  Aside)  I  '11  bring  you  oft 
I  '11  read  it  to  you.  —  'T  is  some  poetry  of  mine,  —  some  reasons. 

Tom.  0,  damn  your  poetry  and  your  reasons  !  Read  it  if  you  dare  ! 
It  would  take  away  my  appetite.  Go  to  the  dining-room. 

Joe.  I  wilL  Miss  Ellen,  here  ;  if  your  father  rejects,  I  know  it's 
dear  to  you. 

El.  I  '11  read  it  at  my  leisure.  In  the  mean  time,  should  you  be  in- 
spired, and  have  any  more  like  this,  let  me  have  them. 

Tom.  Pooh  !  nonsense  !  don't  you  read  them. 

Enter  JEDEIHAH,  L.  H.  1  E. 

What  do  you  want  ? 

Jed.  Why,  I  came  to  tell  you  that  the  cook  says  dinner 'son  the 
table.  I  seed  her  carryin'  on  it  up.  It  smokes  like  a  chimney  on 
fire  ;  —  more  puddin'  and  pies  than  —  I  say,  Sir  Jonas,  I  want  to 
ask  you  a  question.  It  must  cost  you  an  awful  sight  to  live  the  way 
you  do.  0  !  there  's  that  bild  turkey  ;  the  cook  has  stuck  it  all  over 
with  isters  and  tiled  eggs,  and  slobbered  more  'n  a  pound  o'  melted 
butter  all  over  it.  It's  a  wonder  to  me  the  critter  hasn't  spiled 
it  — 

Tom.    Come,  Ellen  ,  and  you  two  remain  within  call. 

[Exeunt  TOMKINS  and  ELLK* 


22  THE    GREEN    MOUNTAIN    BOT.  [ACT   II. 

Jed.   Say,  Joe,  du  we  set  down  at  table  'long  o'  the  rest? 

Joe.   No  ;  but  our  bodies  are  quite  as  well  filled. 

Jed.    But  won't  he  want  us  to  attend  table? 

Joe.  No  ;  master  always  likes  to  have  the  girls  at  table,  till  the 
cloth  is  removed.  But  I  can't  stand  here  talkin'  to  you  ;  'cause  the 
old  gentleman  will  be  wantin'  me  to  wait  on  him.  Yet  ere  I  leave 
these  gay  and  festive  scenes,  —  these  halls  of  dazzling  light,  —  I  shall 
take  the  present  opportunity  to  say  — 

Tom.  (without,  R.  H.)  Joe  !  you  infernal  rascal !  where  are  you? 

Joe.    Coming,  sir  !  [Exit,  R.  H.  1  K. 

Jed.  Wait  on  him  !  You  can  wait  on  him,  if  you  like  ;  but  I 
shan't.  I  never  was  brought  up  to  wait  on  anybody  but  myself.  I  '11 
go  down  in  the  yard,  and  play  with  the  big  yaller  dog,  till  they  're 
done  dinner.  That 's  the*  curiousest  dog  I  ever  did  see.  —  I  can't  find 
out  whether  his  tail  is  cut  off  or  driv  in.  [Exit,  L.  H.  1  E. 

SCENE  III.  —  A  Wood,  1  a.  —  Dark. 
Enter  JOE,  L.  H.  1  E.,  with  paper,  pencil,  bottle,  SfC. 

Joe.  Here  I  am,  alone !  She  does  not  come,  and  'tis  the  hour. 
I  am  in  suspense.  —  I  have  drinked  up  all  my  liquor.  Can  she  intend 
to  play  me  false?  If  so,  all  my  paper  has  been  wasted,  that  I  have 
filled  with  tender  strains  to  her.  All  my  throbbings  have  been  in 
vain.  Ah  !  what  do  I  see ?  —  the  disguise.  'T is  she! — I 'm  bless'd. 
There 's  Miss  Ellen  just  now  left  her.  While  she 's  in  that  disguise, 
I  '11  throw  off  all  disguise,  and  throw  myself  into  her  arms.  Propitious 
moment !  she  comes. 

Enter  EDWARD,  K.  n.  1  E.,  muffled  in  a  cloak. 

And  thus,  my  dear  Miss  Squeamish,  I  hug  you  to  iry  heart.  Don't 
you  feel  it  beat  ? 

Ed.  I  '11  be  damned  if  I  do  any  such  thing,  Joe.  Why,  Joe,  did 
you  take  me  for  Miss  Squeamish  ? 

Joe.  Blister  my  tongue  for  speaking  the  name  !  —  my  lips  for  utter 
ing  it  ! 

Ed.  But  they  did  utter  it.     I  heard  it. 

Joe.  She  promised  to  meet  me  in  disguise. 

O,  she 's  false  !     "  Come  what,  come  may  ! 
The  cat  may  mew,  the  dog  will  have  his  day." 

[Exit,  in  rage,  L.  n.  1  s. 
Enter  ELLEN,  R.  n.  1  E. 

El.   We  are  near  the  path  that  leads  to  the  gate. 

Ed.  All  right.  Your  aunt  was  to  have  met  Joe,  in  disguise  ;  and 
now  she  dare  not  mention  our  elopement.  Is  there  no  passage  but  the 
gate  in  front  that  will  take  us  into  the  road  ? 

El.  Yes,  the  one  at  the  corner  ;  but  we  must  pass  the  gate  in  front, 
unless  we  can  get  over  a  large  plat  of  bushes. 

Ed.  0,  hang  the  bushes  !  I  '11  find  a  way  through  them.  I  '11  gt 
•nd  have  the  chaise  ready. 


MJEMK    IV.]  TUK    UBKE.V    MGUXTAl.V    HOT.  28 

£«/er  SANDKIELD,  L.  H.  1  K. 

Sand.  How  is  it  I  find  you  here,  sir?  I  have  ordered  the  chaise 
home.  I  am  informed  you  hired  it.  You  have  deceived  me. 

Ed.  I  confess  it,  sir.  Forgive  me  ;  love  impelled  me  to  the  act. 
The  fear  of  losing  Ellen  determined  me  to  hazard  everything,  even 
your  displeasure,  in  securing  her. 

Sand.  Away  to  your  lodgings  !  If  I  need  you,  I  '11  send  for  you. 
You,  miss,  back  to  your  home  ! 

El.   But,  sir,  what  right  — 

Sand.   Silence  !  I  '11  not  hear  a  word  ! 

Ed.  It  must  be,  Ellen.  I  cannot,  I  know  not  why,  disobey  his 
commands.  [Exeunt  ELLEN,  L.  H.  1  E.,  and  EDWARD  R.  H.  1  E. 

Sand.  Now  to  meet  my  brother.  Ha!  I  see;  yonder  he  is, — 
yonder  is  the  villain  Wilkins.  He  thinks  himself  secure.  Ten  years 
has  he  moved  in  splendor  ;  while  I  —  I  cannot  bear  the  thought  — 
have  been  an  outcast  from  home  ;  my  name  mentioned  not,  except 
when  coupled  with  infamy  ;  recorded  as  a  felon  ;  a  price  set  upon  my 
head.  But  we  shall  meet,  and  my  wrongs  shall  not  go  unrevenged  ! 

[Exit,  B.  H.  1 1. 

SCENE  IV.  —  Chamber  in  TOMKIXS'  House,  3  G.  —  Tormenlor-doort 
B.  and  L.,  used.  —  Table  and  two  chairs  L.  c. —  Candles  lighted, 
wine,  fyc.,  on  table.  —  TOMEJNS  and  JEDEDIAH  discovered. 

Tom.   I  tell  you  give  me  some  more  wine,  Jedediah  ! 

Jed.  (filling for  him).  Sartin.  Look  here,  Sir  Jonas,  if  this  wine 
upsets  your  apple-cart  it 's  no  fault  of  mine,  you  know  ;  for  as  long  as 
you  pay  for  it,  you  have  a  right  to  get  as  drunk  as  a  sow,  if  you  want 
tu.  (Drinks from  bottle.) 

Tom.  To  be  sure  I  have  !  Why  not,  you  rascal ?  Drink  more  ;  — 
'tis  good  ;  I  imported  it  myself.  (JEDEDIAH  drinks.)  What  are  you 
doing  ? 

Jed.  Why,  I  wanted  to  see  if  it  was  all  alike.  Look  here,  square, 
if  we  don't  look  out  we  '11  be  a  pair  o'  the  drunkenest  cusses  in  this 
section  o'  the  country —  (Knock  at  door,  L.  H.  1  E.) 

Tom.   Ah  !  Jed,  see  who  's  at  the  door. 

Jed.  Yes,  I  will.  (  Exit,  L.  n.  1  E.,  and  reenter  immediately.)  It  'a 
•ome  strange  chap,  Sir  Jonas,  wants  to  see  you. 

Tom.   Well,  why  did  n't  you  show  him  in  ? 

Jed.  Why,  you  see,  I  didn't  know  whether  we  were  at  home  to 
him,  Sir  Jonas,  or  not. 

Tom.   Show  him  in,  you  rascal  you. 

Jed.   Yes,  I  will.  [Exit,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Tom.  I  wonder  who  it  can  be.  Some  stranger  just  arrived.  Been 
•ent  here  by  Bustle.  I  wish  he  had  come  sooner. 

Enter  SANDFJELD,  in  cloak,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Sit  down,  sir.     (Aside)    I  wonder  who  he  is.     Jedediah,  leave  the 
room. 

Jed.  Yes,  sir.  (Goitiy.)  I  wonder  who  that  critter  is.  He  looks 
M  mysterious  as  though  he  'd  committed  suicide,  and  didn't  know  it. 

[Exit,  L.  H.  1  • 


24  THE    GREEN    MOUNTAIN    BOY.  [ACT   II 

Sand.  Sir,  my  visit  here  is  one  of  business  ;  not  of  pleasure.  I  am 
a  man  of  but  few  words.  I  use  no  ceremony,  and  expect  none.  My 
name  is  Sandfield  ;  yours  is  Tomkins. 

Tom.   Yes,  that 's  my  name. 

Sand.    Not  the  one  your  father  gave  you. 

Tom.  No,  to  be  sure  not;  but  how  did  you  know  that?  I  don't 
i;emember  your  face. 

Sand.   You  have  seen  it  often  enough. 

Tom.   I  never  saw  it  in  my  life. 

Sand.   I  have  been  intimate  with  you,  and  with  your  lirother. 

Tom.  (aside).  Strange  fellow  this.  He  '11  persuade  me  directly 
he 's  a  relation  of  mine.  You  knew  my  brother,  then  ? 

Sand.   And  know  why  he  left  his  native  land. 

Tom.  Poor  James  !  he  was  unfortunate.  Where  is  he  now?  Have 
you  lately  seen  him  ? 

Sand.   Not  two  hours  ago. 

Tom.  Is  he  in  this  town  ? 

Sand.   He  is. 

Tom.  Does  he  not  fear  detection  ? 

Sand.  He  does  not.  The  crime  he  was  accused  of  his  accuser  com- 
mitted. He  is  not  guilty. 

Tom.  Would  it  were  so!  (Bark  of  dog  without,  L.  —  JEDEDIAH 
rushes  on  c.,from  B,) 

Jed.   Say,  square  !  there  's  that  there  big  yaller  dog — 

Tom.   Lea  ve  the  room,  sir  !    How  dare  you?    (Drives  him  off  o.  D.) 

Sand.   I  repeat,  it  is  so.  —  He  is  innocent ! 

Tom.  I  am  glad  of  it ;  but  let 's  talk  of  something  else.  I  *m  going 
to  marry  my  daughter  — 

Sand.   To  a  villain  ! 

Tom.  No,  bless  you  ;  to  a  lord,  —  an  English  nobleman.  He  is 
here  in  the  house  now. 

Sand.   I  forbid  it. 

Tom.  The  devil  you  do  !  And  by  what  right,  I  should  like  to 
know. 

Sand.   That 's  my  business. 

Enter  JEDEDIAH,  n.  H.  1  K. 

Jed.  Say,  squire  !  that  yaller  dog  has  broke  his  chain,  and  bit  » 
nigger  ! 

Tom.  Get  out,  you  scoundrel !  Begone  !  [Exit  JED.,  n.  n.  1  E. 
My  friend,  I  don't  know  who  you  are  ;  but  it 's  very  plain,  if  you  stay 
here  any  longer,  we  shall  not  part  on  very  good  terms. 

Sand.  I  shall  not  leave  your  house  till  I  have  finished,  and  to  my 
satisfaction ,  the  business  which  brought  me  here. 

Tom.    Be  pleased  to  make  me  acquainted  with  it. 

Sand.  Hear  me,  then,  sir.  —  You  have  driven  your  brother's  son 
from  your  house  ;  separated  him  from  a  woman  he  loved,  and  bestowed 
her  upon  a  villain. 

Tom.  So  so  ;  some  friend  of  Edward's.  And  he  sent  you  here,  did 
he,  to  defame  the  character  of  his  lordship  —  Lord  Montague? 

Sam/.  No  term,  however  vile,  is  defamation  for  the  wretch  you 
have  jost  mentioned.  Sec  lie  does  not  leave  the  house- 


BCEHI  7.]  TOE   GBEEN    MOUNTAIN    BOT.  2/> 

Tom.  I  '11  send  for  his  lordship.  He  shall  be  confronted  with  you. 
in  my  presence. 

Enter  JEDEDIAH,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Jed.   Square,  your  black  hen  has  been  and  gone  and  laid  a  white 

egg! 

Tom.  You  impudent  scoundrel !  dare  to  interrupt  us  again,  and 
I  '11  break  every  bone  in  your  body.  (Drives  him.  off  L.  H.  1  E.) 

Sand.  I  will  not  have  it  so.  I  have  business  with  him  myself.  He 
it  was  who  caused  your  brother's  ruin.  This  I  can  and  will  prove. 

Tom.   I  cannot  believe  it. 

Sand.  In  half  an  hour  let  him  meet  me  here.  You  shall  be  con- 
cealed, hear  our  conversation,  and  yourself  escape  a  deep-laid  scheme 
of  villainy. 

Tom.  It  shall  be  so.  Here,  Jedediah  !  If  it  is  so  I  shall  be  very 
much  obliged  to  you  for  your  information  ;  and  any  service  I  can  ren- 
der you,  name  it,  and  't  is  done. 

Sand.  Show  me  to  a  room  where  I  may  be  quiet  and  alone.  I  have 
writing  to  do. 

Tom.  This  way,  sir.  [Exeunt,  B.  H.  1  E.  —  Clear  stage. 

SCENE   V.  —  A  Chamber  in   TOMKINS'  House,  2  o c.  doort, 

practicable. 

Enter  TOMKINS  and  WILKIXS,  B.  H.  1  E. 

Wil.  Inquiring  for  me.     Did  he  not  give  his  name  T 
Tom.   He  did  —  Sandfield. 

Wil.  I  do  not  Know  him.  There  must  be  some  mistake.  How- 
ever, if  he  calls  again  — 

Tom.    He  is  now  here,  in  the  house. 

Enter  McNAB,  L.  n.  1  B. 

McNab.  Gentlemen,  how  de  do?  Which  is  the  master  of  toil 
house  ? 

Tom.  I  am,  sir. 

McN.  Then  I  don't  want  anything  to  do  with  the  likes  of  you. 
(Crosses  to  B.  H.) 

Wil.  (aside}.  McNab  !  Ah  !  he  recognizes  me.  I  am  lost,  unless 
a  bribe  can  save  me  ! 

McN.  So,  so  !  I  am  not  deceived. 

Wil.  (aside  to  him).  McNab,  'tis  useless  to  deny  my  identity. — 
You  know  me  ;  but  yet  let  me  escape,  and  two  thousand  dollars  are 
yours. 

McN.   Hand  it  over,  and  I  '11  clear  you. 

Wil.  I  am  to  marry  Tomkins'  daughter.  Wait  till  the  ceremony 
is  over  ;  then  I  touch,  and  BO  shall  you.  Why  do  you  hesitate?  f 

McN.  Because  there  is  a  little  bit  of  doubt  about  the  security.  If 
he  will  become  responsible  for  the  surety  — 

Wil.   Be  quiet     You  will  ruin  all. 

McN.  Be  azy.  ( To  TOMKIJJS)  This  gentleman  says  he  is  going  to 
marry  your  daughter. 

Tom.   His  lordship,  there  ?  yes,  he  ig. 


26  THE    GREEN    MOUNTAIN    BOY.  [A01  II. 

McN.  Hif  lordship  !  Yes  —  och,  bother  !  that's  true.  At  any 
rate  he 's  goin'  to  be  your  son-in-law,  you  won't  object  to  put  your 
name  to  a  bit  of  paper  for  him  ? 

Tom .  I  '11  put  my  name  to  anything,  for  hia  lordship.  I  '11  step 
and  get  a  pen  and  ink  — 

McN.  No  matter  ;  I  have  a  bit  o'  one  here  in  nw  pocket. 

Tom.  (writes  on  top  ofMcNAB's  hat).  There. 

McJV.   But  I  want  a  bit  of  a  witness. 

Tom.  Here,  Jedediah  ! 

Enter  JEDEDIAH,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Jed.  What 's  the  row,  Sir  Jonas? 

Ton.   Here,  Jedediah,  I  want  you  as  a  witnesr  to  my  signature. 

Jed.  How  do  I  know  you  writ  it  ? 

Tom.  I  tell  you  I  did,  and  that 's  enough. 

Jed.  Wai,  then  I  '11  du  it ;  but  if  I  get  in  a«y  scrape,  you  got  tu 
back  me,  you  know.  (Writes  with  a  flourish.^  There,  I  guess  any- 
body can  read  that  without  a  telescope.  [Exit,  L.  H.  1  B. 

McJV.  Now  it 's  all  right.     What '11 1  do  neTt? 

Wil.  Go! 

Tom.  1  '11  let  you  out.     The  door  is  locked.    This  way. 

[Exeunt  TOMKINS  and  McNAB,  0.  ». 

Wil.  As  things  are  now,  my  only  chance  is  to  fly  while  I  have  the 
power  to  escape.  I  dare  not  meet  this  Sandfield.  I  never  heard  the 
name  before  ;  yet  I  fear  it. 

Enter  JEDEDIAH,  i.  H.  1  r 

Jed.  Where 's  the  squire  gone  ? 

Wil.  I  don't  know. 

Jed.  What 's  the  reason? 

Wil.   Fool!  find  out  — 

Jed.   By  my  larnin',  as  we  say  up  home. 

Wil.  Leave  the  room.     Would  you  have  me  tell  yov  all  I  know  T 

Jed.   Guess  '  t  would  n't  take  you  long  to  do  that,  would  it  ? 

Enter  SANDFIELD,  wrapped  in  cloak,  K.  n.  1  E. 

Sand,  (touching  JEDEDIAH  on  thoulder).  Young  man,  go  about 
your  business. 

Jed.   I  have  n't  got  none  to  do. 

Sand.  Take  this  letter.  —  Deliver  it  to  its  address.     (  Gives  letter.) 

Jed.  Yes,  I  will.  (Looking  at  them  aside)  There 's  thunder  brew- 
ing somewhere.  I  '11  go  and  get  my  fighting  clothes,  and  be  on  hand 
when  the  row  commences.  [Exit,  L.  u.  1  K. 

Sand.   Sir,  I  would  speak  with  you. 

Wil.   Well,  sir.     (Aside)  Merston  !    All 's  lost . 

Sand.   Do  you  know  me  ? 

Wil.   I  do  not.     (Aside)  I  may  escape. 

Sand.  'T  is  time  you  should.  Look  there,  sir.  (Show*  a  printed 
handbill.')  You  are  this  scoundrel ! 

Wil.   Sir  !  I  — 

Sand.    You  have  heard  the  name  of  Merston  ? 


BCKJKY.]  THE   GREEN    MOUSTA1N    EOT.  27 

Wil.  I  do  not  itmember  it,  sir.  I  '11  go  and  search  among  my 
list  of  cards,  sir.  Perhaps  — 

Sand.  Perhaps,  villain  !  I  '11  freshen  your  memory.  You  are 
known  to  me,  and  your  deeds.  Merston  !  —  disgrace  and  infamy  were 
brought  upon  him  by  you  !  'T  was  you  who  under  the  mask  of  friend- 
ship first  seduced  him  to  the  gaming-table  ;  and  he  was  there  soon 
stripped  of  his  fortune,  and  largely  involved  in  debts  of  honor,  with 
villains  for  his  creditors  !  When  your  share  of  the  spoil  was  spent  in 
dissipation,  or  lost  again  among  the  sharpers  of  your  gang,  you  forged 
a  draft  upon  a  banking  house,  promising  a  loan  on  receiving  it.  He 
believed  it  true  ;  and  his  necessities,  the  effect  of  your  arts,  compelled 
him  to  accept  the  proffered  assistance. 

Wil.   Well,  sir,  what's  this  to  me? 

Sand.  The  forgery  was  detected;  —  he  arrested  and  imprisoned. 
You  appeared  against  him  in  evidence  ;  —  perjured  villain  !  your 
Words  convicted  him  ! 

Wil.   Whoever  you  may  be,  sir,  you  must  be  aware  — 

Sand.  I  have  not  done.  In  my  possession  are  documents  to  prove 
your  share  of  the  transaction.  I  have  crossed  the  ocean,  and  have 
come  from  the  Indies  to  establish  his  innocence,  —  to  free  my  friend 
from  the  foul  stain  stamped  by  you  upon  his  name  !  —  to  publish  to 
the  world  your  character  ;  and  when  found,  to  give  you  up  to  justice. 
I  am  aware,  sir,  of  your  designs  here,  and  shall  prevent  them. 

Wil.  Should  he  disclose  !  Sir,  you  are  mistaken.  My  surprise 
was  so  great  I  did  not  before  interrupt  you.  I  am  not  the  person  you 
suppose.  I  forgive  the  mistaken  zeal. 

Sand.  Wilkins,  'tis  in  vain.  If  you  have  forgotten  me,  I  have  not 
forgotten  you.  You  are  so  'imprinted  on  my  memory  time  cannot 
efface  the  recollection.  I  have  followed  you  here.  Ten  years  have  I, 
with  an  almost  frenzied  heart,  waited  the  arrival  of  an  hour  like  this  ; 
and  when  I  have  thought  of  the  home  I  left,  madly  I  have  cried  for 
vengeance.  'T  is  come  !  —  I  am  Merston  !  (Throws  aside  cloak.) 

Wil.  Merston  !  Have  care  !  —  I  am  soon  to  be  united  to  one  of 
this  family.  Go,  while  you  are  free  !  If  you  longer  stay,  to  cross 
my  purpose,  I  '11  denounce  you  as  a  fugitive  from  justice.  (JL  to  L.  H.) 

Sand.   I  will  not  leave  you.     (Detaining  him.) 

Wil.  (aside).  I  cannot  force  by  threats  ;  I  must  bribe  him.  I  re-- 
ceive  my  intended  bride's  fortune,  thirty  thousand  dollars,  on  ay 
wedding  day.  Keep  this  secret  till  then,  half  of  it  shall  be  yours. 

Sand.  No  ;  I  have  not  poverty  —  that  finger-post  to  vice — to  urge 
me.  When  the  father  of  the  girl,  whom  you  intended  to  K^uce  from 
home  and  happiness,  to  be  the  companion  of  a  villain,  shou)-J  know  it, 
what  would  be  his  language  to  me?  He  is  my  brother  ! 

Wil.   Suffer  me  to  fly  !     (Aside)  Death  and  furies  ' 

Sand.   No,  you  stir  not  hence  !    I  say  no  ! 

Enter  TOMKIXS,  c.,  and  down  c. 

Tom.  I  say  no,  too.  You  are  a  pretty  rascal !  Brotlur  !  What 
have  you  to  say  for  j-ourself  ? 

Wil.,  L.  Nothing  ;  if  he  has  charges  against  me,  lei  him  provt 
them  in  a  court  of  justice. 


28  THE   GREEN    JIOUJiTAlM   BOT.  ['ACT  II 

Sand.  Yes  ;  't  is  easily  done.  He  has  but  now  escaped  from  prison. 
This  paper  I  hold  in  my  hand  is  evidence  of  that  fact. 

Tom.  'Tis  all  true.  Brother,  I  am  ashamed  of  myself.  I  can 
hardly  look  you  in  the  face.  You  infernal  rascal !  how  dare  you  ? 
But  I  shall  not  waste  my  breath  talking  to  you.  And  Ned  ;  I  turned 
him  out  of  my  house  1 

Sand.  Edward  has  been  sent  for,  who  as  yet  knows  me  not  as  hia 
father. 

Enter  McNAB,  c.,  and  down  L.  c. 

McN.  I  have  been  listenin'  at  the  door.  So  you  have  found  out 
my  friend  there.  I  suppose  I  may  take  him  to  hia  friends  now. 

Tom.  Take  him  where  you  please,  BO  't  is  out  of  my  sight.  —  I  car* 
not.  Why  did  you  deceive  me  ? 

McN.  He  promised  to  pay  me  for  it ;  and  in  default  he  stands  com- 
mitted. (Crosses  to  L.  H.)  Come  along. 

[Exit,  with  WILKINS,  L.  H.  1  B. 

Enter  JEDEDIAU,  L.  H.  1  E. 

Jed.   Edward  's  coming  up  like  a  loon's  leg,  Sir  Jonas. 

Tom.   Don't  call  me  Sir  Jonas  ! 

Jed.  Why,  did  n't  you  say  you  was  fond  of  titles  ? 

Tom.  Titles  be  damned  !    I  wish  I  'd  never  heard  of  such  a  thing. 

Enter  EDWABD  and  EUJEN,  t.  H.  1  E. 

Tom.   How  dare  you  come  before  me,  sir  T  —  with  an  accomplice, 
too  ?     You  are  a  pretty  couple  ! 
Ed.  Uncle,  consider. 

Enter  JOE  SIIAKSPEAKE  and  Miss  SQUEAMISH,  c.  r>. 

• 

Tom.  Consider !  Ah,  yon  young  rogue  !  You  deceitful  little  Gyp- 
sey  !  But  I  forgive  you.  There,  Ned,  there 's  Ellen  ;  and  now  ask 
your  father  if  he  likes  the  match. 

Ed.  My  father!  What  mean  you  ?  —  is  he  my  father?  (Embrace, 
and  all  retire  up.) 

Jed.  Wai,  if  things  ain't  goin'  on  funny,  in  this  house,  I  '11  give  up. 
(Turns  and  sees  JOE  and  Miss  S.)  Hello  !  here  's  another  arrange- 
ment. I  wonder  what  critter  that  is  with  Joe.  I  '11  see.  (Bringt 
them  down,  E.  H.) 

Joe.  I  publish  it.  —  This  is  Mrs.  Shakspeare  that  is  to  be. 

El.,  L.   0  aunt !  fie  !    I  hate  the  men  ! 

Tom.  Why,  can  I  believe  my  eyes?  I  am  not  the  only  fool  in  the 
play,  then,  after  alL 

Joe.  No,  I  guess  you  ain't,  Sir  Jonas  ! 

Tom.  Don't  call  me  Sir  Jonas,  or  anything  again  that  sounds  like 
title.  At  the  next  session  of  Parliament  —  damn  Parliament  —  I  mean 
next  Court,  my  name  shall  be  changed  back  again.  Brother,  sister, 
nephew,  daughter,  Joe,  you  may  all  get  married  in  a  lump  ;  and  I  '11 
make  a  nursery  of  every  room  in  my  house.  I  don't  care  how  soon 
I  'm  a  grandfather. 

Joe.   Will  you  go  to  church,  and  say  yes? 

Mist  S.  Don't  ask  me,  Mr.  Shakspeare.     Have  everything  your 


V.]  THE   GREEN    MOUNTAIN   DOT.  29 

own  way.     I  have  lived  fifty  years  single,  and  had  a  will  of  my  own 
If  I  live  fifty  years  more  — 

Jed.  You  '11  be  a  hundred,  by  Dnboll's  arithmetic. 

Tom.   Marry  her,  and  I  '11  give  you  a  farm. 

Jed.   Sir  Jonas,  you  must  give  'em  good  title-deeds. 

Tom.   Damn  your  titles  !    Jed,  say  no  more. 

Jed.   Only  one  thing  more,  square.  —  As  I'm  now  about  to  leave 

rour  employ,  I  may  want  a  character,  you  know  ;  and  so  I  thought 
'd  just  ask  the  good  folks  here,  after  what  has  passed  to-night,  if 
they  'd  have  any  objection  to  give  their  recommendation  to  the  Green 
Mountain  Boy. 

SITUATIONS. 


fc.   B. 


f 


ttt'SB   LIBRARY 


FRENCH'S  SCENES  FOR  AMATEURS. 

From  approved  designs.    Representing  scenes  suitable  for  any  piece.    Thane  are 
invaluable  to  aiu:tteur  scene  paint  TH  and  almi  a  great  guide  and  help  to  profes- 

l>y  1-J  ;2  m. 
Price  Colored,  each,  30  cents.    Plain,  each,  15  cent*. 

BACK  SCENKS. 
The  letters  denote  what  borders  and  side*  will  go  with  the  scenes. 


1.  Cottage,  Interior  (jb) 

2.  •'         Exterior  (af) 

3.  Wood  (a  /  ) 

4.  Prison    c  I) 

6.  Field  (a  k) 

•  •    k) 

7.  Street  (0) 

8.  Palace  (d  A) 

9.  Drawing-room  (J) 


10.  Library  (j) 

11.  Street,  Foreign  (e) 

12.  Roadside     Inn    with 


18.  Attic  (bj  ) 

19.  Lodging  House Room(/) 

20.  Villa  (af} 


river  and  bridge  (fc,J21.  Court  of  Justice  (A) 


13.  Foreign  Hotel  ext.(a/) 

14.  Ship  Deck 

15.  Seascape  (k) 

16.  Cave  (c  I) 

17.  Mountain  Pass  (6  k) 


22.  Baronial  Hall  (A  6) 

23.  Proscenium,  right 
23 A  •'  lett 

24.  Curtain 

25.  Drop  Scene. 


BORDERS  AND  SIDES. 
Price  Colored,  each,  30  cents     Plain,  each,  15  cents. 


a  Foliage  Borders. 

b  Rocks  and  Raft  Borders. 

e  Stone  Borders. 

d  Fancy  Borders. 


e  Foreign  Exterior  Sides. 

/Tree  Sides. 

g  Exterior  Sides. 

h.  Pillar  Sides. 


.;'  Interior  Sides. 

k  Field  and  Rock  Sides. 

I  Stone  Sides. 


FRENCH'S  AMATEUR  OPERAS, 

FOB  STAGE  AND  DRAWING-ROOM. 

Comprising  some  of  the  best  works  of  the  great  composers,  and  arranged  BO 
that  they  cm  bo  performed  in  any  drawing-room.  Kaeh  book  i*  complete  in 
itself,  containing  the  Libretto,  Stage  Directions,  Music,  Costumes,  and  Propertiet, 
id  the  size  of  ordinary  music,  illuminated  cover. 

This  series  is  superior  to  any  other  published.    The  lollowing  are  ready; 

PRICE  40  C-ENTS  EACH.  M      T 

The  Rose  of  Auvergne,  or  "Spoiling  the  Broth,"!  act.    Music  by  Offenbach  2  1 

The  Blind  Begsars,  by  Offenbach,  1  aet 2  1 

The  Barber  of  Bath  Off -nbach,  1  act 3  1 

My  X  1  liy  Charles  Lecocq,  1  act  0  2 

b  of  the  Blues,  oomp  Kobillard,  1  act 1  1 

-  \VuloT8,  V.  Gabriel,  1  act  1  2 

Loan  of  a  Lover    4  2 

Trial  by  Jury,  composed  by  Arthur  Sullivan,  1  act,  words  by  W.  8.  Gilbert. 
This  is  v'ei"  i  r.-tty.  There  are  five  males,  as  well  as 
twelve  jurjmen  (the  chorus),  and  one  female  character  and  eight  brides- 
mai  la,  also  the  chorus.  If  these  numbers  bo  not  convenient,  any  num- 
ber will  do 17  9 


TABLEAUX  VIVA.NTS, 

ARRANGED    FOB     PRIVATE    REPRESENTATION. 

BY  J.    V.   PRICHAUD. 

Containing  80  selected  Table  uix,  with  instructions  how  to  get  them  np,  cast 
of  characters,  costumes  roquii-,  1.  a  -d   full  description  of  i'a  Also 

information  respect '111'  the  use  of  the  Tableaux  t  rffects,  and 

:bing  the  music  required  for  each  representation.    Price,  25  cents. 


THEATRICAL  AND  FANCY  COSTUME  WIGS,  &c., 


4.  large  assort  nent  of  above  kept,  in 
can  bo  ma  .c  to 

CATALOGUE,    POS 

*  S. 

33  Iiiast  14th   Stre 


out  on  hire.     Any  Wig 


1  -      -     rj      —— 

PRICE,    IScts.    EA.CH. 

PUBLISHED  IN  FRENCH'S  STANDARD  DRAMA. 

Lancers 

Lady  Clancarty 

Allatoona 

Lucille 

..to  to  Mend 

\rden 

Randall's  Thumb 

Lily  of  France 

Weak  Woman 

Wicked  World 

Led  A.  i 

How  She  Loves  Him 

Two  Orphans 

Henry  V.,  new  version 

Our  Society 

Colleen  Bavra 

Unequal  Match 

Mother  in  Law 

'Twixt  Axe  and  Crown 

May,  or  Dolly's  Delusion 

Snowed  In 

PUBLISHED  IN  FRENCH'S  MINOR  DRAMA. 

Wonderful  Woman 

As  Like  as  Two  Peas 

Terrible  Tinker 

Curious  Case 

Court  ( 

My  Uncle's  Will 

Forty  Winks 

ll;t[.j«y  Land 

PUBLISHED  IN  FRENCH'S  LONDON  EDITION. 

Twenty  Minutes  Under  an  :  Bitter  Reckoning                 |  Who'll  Lendme  a  Wrife 

IJmbrella 

Mr.  Joffiu's  Latch  Key 

II   I'lOTlgh 

Watch  am!  < 

Sweethi 

Family  Pictures 

u  India 

Velvet  and  '  ags 

Fatal  1 

Ashore  and  Afloat 

Jeannette  ami  Jc-aunot 

Hour 

.•lings 

Bridal  Wreath 

An  olii 

Gold  F 

.iic;ale 

Tom  Bowline 

Our  Ni 

Kar<-                         rant 

Life 

Th«t  Vampire, 

Chopptirk  and  Spiking 

Headiesb  Horseman 

'.'omau 

Our  <!< 

Birds  in  their  Little  Nests 

Telephone 

For  Honor's  Sake 

Too  I.. 

••.tercet  Foe 

Hy  R  tyal  (  ommand 

Blow  in  the  Dark 

Painless  Dentistry 

Her 

Taking  tlie 

.  tship 

liing 

Rely  on  My  Discretion 

'.  !arm 

Popple  t                       ments 

Wlio  Stole  the  (/lock 

Up  in  the  World 

Anld  Accjiiaiutauce 

Love  and  I' 

Parted 

Wi  nds 

On  the  Cljde 

One  in  Hand.  &c. 

White  Pilerim 

Mary>  Cream 

Littii 

Dentist's  Clerk 

ARTICLES  NEEDED  BY  AMATEURS, 

;  St.cn  as  Tableaux  Lights,  Magnesium  Tableaux  Lights,  Prepared  Burnt 

Cork,  Grease,  Pa                                                 vate  Theatr 

Jarley's  Wax  Works,  Ethiopi                                               !.  ur's  Guide,  Guide  to 

.ue 

S.   FRENCH   «&r,   SON, 

38  E.  14th  Street,  Union  j  Square,  Jf.  Y. 

7 


